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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25692175">Haich Versus P: The Firstly</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semeny_Licket/pseuds/Semeny_Licket'>Semeny_Licket</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Haich Versus P [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Call of Duty (Video Games), Halo (Video Games) &amp; Related Fandoms, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cannibalism, Communism, Epic, Genocide, Holocaust, Multi, Travel, War, fan fiction, seige</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2015-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2015-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:14:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>39,953</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25692175</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semeny_Licket/pseuds/Semeny_Licket</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>[On October 15, 2014], I was first contacted by the commissioner to finish writing his personal vision, and in doing the necessary background reading for the first three novels, I took it upon myself with his blessing to edit and fill in the gaps as well. The product you can read here is the first of four books I have spent the past year working on. The first was finished sometime within a few months and the second was begun that same year, finished early of this year. The third book was only finished recently, and the fourth and final installment on this roving narrative is in progress at the time of this writing. The contents therein are taken from the commissioner's ideas and inspiration. The initial draft was splendidly written by his good friend who later abandoned the project. My duty was to preserve that fiction in the progress of this further draft, and having done the work, and on behalf of Daniel and Tom, I present it for you in this format.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Haich Versus P [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863118</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The following story was originally written by Tom and Daniel. All editions made are dedicated to the original authors, in particular, Tom. Kudos to the excellent pacing; each chapter has a clear arc and fits in some action. Making actual things transpire in stories is one of the biggest hurdles to face, and you passed that. Thank you.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the year of our lord, two thousand and twelve, anno domini, a race of evil beings we call the Equestrians came to our earth through a trans-dimensional portal of unknown principle. They brought with them plagues of war and chaos, and their armies overthrew the collective human race. Civilians were enslaved by the Equestrians' slothful purpose, and the soldiers were mocked with mercy: The mercy of being devoured, often still alive and gagging on the taste of their own entrails. Humans scarcely stand as but a small population of "survivors"; a feeble resistance born of hopeless hope and led by the Williams family, who carry about them the last understood remnants of equality and peace in a conquered world. </p><p>To think, two years beforehand, it was a ludicrous notion to believe in such a preposterous war that seemed more akin to the idle workings of a madman's mind. Today, our vision is blighted with the sight of diminutive equine creatures positing a comprehension to mimic our own, all whilst prancing about as colourful demons on four stump-like appendages, and reaching barely the height of our abdomens. Their faces are etched, inflated caricatures of our own by a person who had never seen our species before. Their eyes are gaping white voids of all too shiny irises and pupils. If you've ever stared long and hard at a cat's eyes, you may start to wonder how it is the animal knows to look you dead on for attention. When an Equestrian pony looks at you, you can't help but doubt it possesses this same kind of knowledge. Its glassy, ocular organs resemble a homunculus's pretence, or a butterfly's wings, if the wings have a face to ward off predators. The same kind of knowledge. Like they come from a plane of existence where knowledge itself is constructed differently. And the way they look is entirely off. It's not racism. They fundamentally do not look like anything from our world. If they'd had "eldritch tendrils of non-Euclidean geometry," they'd be positively downright Lovecraft-ian. You just look at them, and your mind tells you they're wrong from the very way they register visually in your head. These alien beings are like nothing that exists in our world. We have horses and ponies of our world. Common animals domesticated as beasts of burden we've used since time immemorial. These extra-dimensional invaders are something else. Piggish and stout, speaking and colourful. Truly, they are evolved from a yolk separate from the nature that must be constant in our universe. </p><p>James Williams stood on the front line and stared at the menacing pony army. Amongst his legions were three thousand men, as well as his loyal companion, John Horridge. James took a deep breath to muster his body's emotional reserves, but he only filled his nostrils with the ripe stench of burning blood and gunpowder. James surveyed his environs to see the building piles of dead ponies and men, burning in a senseless yet sensory scape of surrealist horror. </p><p>John approached. "Sir, the ponies are bringing in reinforcements. We should think about retreating!" John had to shout over the cacophony of explosions and staccato gunfire. </p><p>James looked at his good friend. He shook his head, his lips set in a taut frown of a man resigned to his fate, and the fate of three thousand fighting lives. "We can't retreat when victory is so close."</p><p>"Sir, with all due respect, I have a daughter back home and I really wouldn't mind being able to see her again," John said. </p><p>"Fine, go then! But I'll stay here and fight." James's ferocity at John's cowardice was intent, but their friendship was the only excuse for his tolerance. </p><p>"But sir, it's suicide." John's face sagged in anguish as he faced the futility of evincing any instinct of self-preservation his friend might have. </p><p>"Well then, at least I'll die for a good cause." His attention settled upon his remaining soldiers. Hearing John's alternative only further fused his ultimate decision like so much sediment. Hadn't it always been that way between them? He lifted his Russian submachine gun, a PPSH, to his shoulders as if he needed something real, something solid to add to the weight they carried. "For the Union!" roared James, not a moment before he turned and ran towards the enemy. Dutiful soldiers followed close behind him like one seething mass of suicidal life, rising and rushing out from their trenches and foxholes in a uniform stampede. The men let out sporadic bursts of fire, striking a couple of ponies in the first trench. Swept up in the ordure of bloodshed, James jumped into the first enemy trench his mind could single out. He shot the remaining ponies and reloaded his weapon. When someone jumped into the trench to join him, he did not need to raise his weapon. He knew it would be John. </p><p>"What are you doing here?" asked James. They both had to crouch low, because pony trenches were built so much shorter than human ones. </p><p>"Someone's got to protect your sorry ass." A weak grin crossed John's face. James smiled despite his fatigue. He climbed out of the first trench and ran ahead towards the next, his heart pounding in his chest as hard as his boots slapped the mud below. Ponies laid down suppressive fire on him and his men. James let out a battle cry as he shot them down, as if in his mind it was his voice, screaming amidst the din of bullets and hellish confusion, that knocked his enemies all down. It was the inner part of him. It was the soul of a soldier. John and James jumped into the penultimate trench. One more and they would have made it to enemy HQ, where invaluable intel had promised them the enemy commander, Rainbow Dash, resided. Far too invaluable. A promise like the return of a prophet. </p><p>"We've nearly made it!" John wanted to shout, but his own panting breath, which tasted to him of blood or sputum, was too heavy. In spite of his wheezing, his amazement was apparent. </p><p>"I knew we would. Come on, this is where it all ends." James was certain. His voice didn't sound like it, but he was certain. He slipped another drum barrel into his PPSH with all the tenacity of an office drone barrelling through a week of Mondays. James jumped out the bunker when a mortar careened into the blood-soaked mud behind him with a thunderous splat. The concurrent blast threw James up high, his arms spinning and legs flailing, and he landed with a sickening thud. James's ears were ringing, and a pain in his head urged him to answer a phone that wasn't there. His vision blurred, and his left eye stung as if a whole hive full of queen bees sought refuge in his skull. He took a moment to orientate himself. A moment or two. He begged fate for this, the way one begs for five more minutes of sleep before school. </p><p>Knowing he shouldn't, knowing that once he saw, the consequences would become real, he turned his head to look back at the bunker. At first, he let out a sorry laugh, realizing he couldn't feel the left side of his mouth. The bunker was so far away, he must have been invincible to reach this far. John was not there. "John. Where are you?" James tried to bellow, but no voice came out. The wind had been knocked out of him. Still, he could hear his own scream, so loud in his head that perhaps it was leaking out of him. Like a jinx, he thought to himself: John was not invincible. </p><p>James crawled, commando-style, to the final trench. He slid himself in like a thief in the night, like a puppet with a broken string that had to be let down gently, and immediately he looked about himself. That was the moment when he could no longer feel what was real: the moment when he saw the grisly scene portrayed before him. He'd seen so many scenes like it, an infinite plenitude of dying men whose prone bodies had been shaking and beating like a frog dissected while it was still alive. His old friend lay there, now a half blown-up corpse, his open eyes staring at him like he'd just been shown a novel parlour trick. This was the face of the grim reaper himself, and it sucked out James's angered cry. He knew of no impulse to make such an inhuman noise. It had just been robbed of him with all the force of an industrial-strength vacuum. </p><p>Still, the pulsating years of training moved him onwards. Disregarding any injuries he bore himself, he grabbed his dead friend's bolt-action rifle. For a moment, his hands shook, but he steadied himself by quoting an old movie. "You'll put your eye out," he said to John. Deceased John. He stood up and almost toppled back over again. All that he could see was a Guernica-style vision of his men dying. Their ranks had thinned and they had scattered, disorganized. Prancing, iridescent unicorns charged in, catching men on their horns like bottles in a game of ring toss. James stared down the barrel as one of the equine demons charged at him. He damned the heresy of all the losses he'd faced. He shrugged off the momentary confusion of staring down that oncoming horn rather than his own weapon's sight. He fired and struck the galloping thing in the head. It continued to gallop. It didn't look like it'd stop. He cocked his gun again, but just then the pony swerved and collapsed sideways onto the filth. </p><p>The demons came in, closer and closer. James fired three times, cocking after every shot. His efforts would prove fruitless. The damnedest devil of them all, the enemy monarch, one Twilight Sparkle, swept through the crowd of ponies as if the angel of death herself were pursuing some romantic, gliding twosome dance with him. She walked on her two back legs. Her forelegs had been mutated into human arms. On her back, she carried a double-bladed cane, its twin sabres jutting from opposite ends and decorated in her own cheerful visage. The blades themselves had been carved out of unicorn horns, as if the Equestrians had no moral twinge about cannibalizing their own. </p><p>James soon realised he was the only able body left. He was the last. Out of three-thousand and two, he was one single remainder. Somehow, the threat of his own impending demise didn't make him feel like anything was worth it. He didn't feel like a hero in that instant. He felt like just another man trying to get a job done. He shook these notions off. He aimed at Twilight and fired. His ears went deaf as his finger tugged back on the trigger. But he wasn't actually going deaf. There was no noise because the gun was empty. Twilight pitied him, and proceeded forwards. James threw the weapon to the floor with all the air of a childish temper, and pulled the machete off his back. Reacting almost instantaneously, Twilight pulled out her staff. "This one is mine" she roared as she jumped into the trench. The roar was a kind of laugh, like a deranged pit fighter who had finally found some worthy opponent. Someone who might tilt the odds against her favour. She probably didn't think that way, of course. James was as ready as he'd ever be. </p><p>	"Give up, human. It's no use. You've had your chance. Now make your time," said Twilight. </p><p>	"I will never give in." James's voice was a bloody exhalation, intermittent but forceful with determination. When Twilight did not immediately retort, he lunged forward. As he propelled himself through the air, he felt as if he was soaring. His arm whirled his machete above his head in a wild, preposterous arc, and swung it down. Twilight blocked with the right-end blade of the staff and pushed the flat side of the left blade into James's head. The flat side was not sharp enough to pierce skin but hard enough to disorientate James for a moment. The edges left reddened marks that could not easily be distinguished amidst the dirt and blood that caked his skin. James shook his head, stumbling to avoid toppling over, and engaged his opponent once more. These little moments left him open, but she did not use them to strike. She was mocking him. He should have been better than this. He was better trained. Fatigue was for lesser life forms. Twilight smiled, and James lunged for her again. This time, she dodged out of the way with a smooth sidestep and sliced the back of James's left leg open. Dark red blood flowered into the air as if someone had overturned a glass of milk. James cried out in pain and fell to one knee. His other leg shook so much with a pain he hadn't known was there until he fell to the ground outright. Twilight kicked away James's machete, and placed one blade of her cane to his undulating throat. "Give up, and become one of us," she said.</p><p>	James laughed. "Fuck you!" The words were too much to form, and he choked on something in his oesophagus that tasted foul. He hoped it wasn't his trachea. Twilight's sardonic grin contorted into a malformed, menacing face of bestial rage. A face James had only seen in creepy images posted by the lonely to the internet. </p><p>	"No," she said with dramatic flair. "Fuck you!" With one swift motion, she slit James's throat. She watched him bleed to death with all the manner of someone revelling in the recording of a snuff film. After a nod from their esteemed leader, the ponies began to devour the bodies of the resistance. They gorged and filled themselves like a feast of Caligula, complete with the historical inaccuracies of the Vomitorium. The gleam of Twilight's insidious smile shone like a crooked moon as she heaved up a mass of James's charnel and bloodied oesophagus in the palm of her deformed hoof-hand. With a twinkle in her eye to match a mother's tear, she raised the raw, quivering mass to her lips and began to consume with glee.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>To be continued in:</p><p>
  <a href="https://www.furaffinity.net/view/17963204/">Haich Versus P: The Firstly</a>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The round table. The dust of the streets. The way we lived.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The news of the failed attack and the death of James came as a shock to most people. Most people had given themselves over to the false hopes of propaganda. In a conquered world, you have little in the way of possessions, and propaganda is something intangible, so it's one of the few things you can hold onto. They get by on the flimsy ideals of some man doodling up posters and shouting in the streets, regurgitating paraphrased quips from some other man long dead who no longer has to answer for half-baked ideas. Some man long dead whose language is obsolete, and if he were alive today, would be honour-bound to reassess his ambition-driven proselytism for a brave new world. Many, many people are long dead, but today, there are too many who are short-lived.</p><p>For others still, the death of James Williams brought only grief. His parents, Jenny and Peter both, were grieving over the loss of their eldest son. Meanwhilst, their youngest son, Daniel, was next in line to lead the cobbled human army. Nepotism and primogeniture are but a couple machinations of faith and fate, yet another palliative placebo to instil superstitious hope. Daniel could not be sad about his brother's death, and he could not attribute shame to this lack of grief. By contrast, he was rather kind of relieved. His brother was now free from all this chaos. It was this archaic military propaganda that comforted Daniel. Even the stress of leading the entire human army was a blessing of distraction, which he maintained by quitting smoking his Dromes.</p><p>Daniel wandered and wondered through the snowy streets of Moscow. He isolated himself in his thoughts. He wondered what it would be like to lead an army. Not just being there on the few opportunities to witness his elder brother's command. Not just to command his own platoon or squadron or task force or what have you. To in all actuality be leading, whose responsibility it was to steal the reins of fate, and have the entire world under his feet. To watch his friends and allies die due to his command. And that would happen. No matter how good the plan was, people would die. Daniel didn't know if he could handle the thought of it. The thought of death pursuing him. Challenging him. Fascinating him.</p><p>He sought out the local pub, "The Ivory Inn," to drench these thoughts. That was where the love of his life worked. Her name was Laura Vickers. He thought she had a coarse beauty in both name and grace. The syllables of her bearing were sharp, like shrapnel that cut his cheeks every time he couldn't bring up a smile at the sight of her. Daniel would wonder if she would accept him, and how she would react if he confessed that she was his true love. To spite his desires, he doubted himself until even the most tertiary and facetious plots of opening his feelings to her, the ones where he wore signs around his neck, were vanished in the ethers outside the expanse of his mind. He told himself he was not worthy. He was no more worthy to lead this army of nepotistic obligation than he was of possessing this woman he only imagined he knew. All he really could be certain of was that she worked in the noble profession of enabling addiction and she pressed her pizza to a napkin to save her complexion.</p><p>Daniel entered the pub when he was greeted by the smell of ale and the freshly baked pies sold there. Yes, humanity had been under siege for years, war ruined life on a planet-wide scale and ninety per cent of the population was enslaved, but the fermented grain industry kept on chugging along as usual. Priorities. Music was playing. Soldiers were dancing. He shuffled aside the doorway to scout the interior, and then his good friend, Tom Taylor-Randall, approached him.</p><p>"I'm sorry about your loss, mate." Tom had a strong south London accent. If anyone else had said those words to Daniel, he'd have laughed them aside while stewing brutal notions in his mind of their audacity. Yes, he did not grieve, but James had been his brother. No stranger could have ever lost their brother. Tom was no stranger. Tom had been loyal and steadfast. Tom had stayed true to the course of their global mission ever since his entire family was murdered by the demons. Now, Tom had no one except his beautiful girlfriend, Bella Horridge. Similar situations had bonded Tom and Daniel together.</p><p>"Thank you, my friend," replied Daniel in his Russian accent. The mishmash of Earth was like the fall of Babel, and vocal inclinations of speech had melded and mingled wherever free humans had sought refuge. Daniel had not been born or raised in Russia. Though he had only picked up a Russian accent quickly from his time stationed there, his own voice sounded to himself as fraudulent as his aptitude for leadership. He'd allowed himself to do this. He'd always enjoyed the accents. It felt good on his tongue, in his throat, and between his teeth.</p><p>"Here, have a drink on me!" Tom said.</p><p>"It might fall over. So where's your girl tonight?" Daniel asked. </p><p>"She wants to be alone. Guess I can't blame her, though. Her father died along with James on that battlefield." Tom plugged another whiskey down his gullet, but the proverbial void he tried to fill within was like a sieve.</p><p>"Well, tell her I send my regards." Daniel shrugged. Killing his emotion for James had dulled his empathies.</p><p>"I will." Tom smacked his lips, and then led Daniel over to a table. "Hey, come have a drink with me and the lads." His demeanour brightened, though it hadn't exactly been bleak given the rosy colour in his cheeks.</p><p>Slouching about his round table were knuckleheads and slavish spitfires; his knightly compatriots as in fabled days of old. Logan Walker had served in Iraq, but he'd been no stranger to death since his upbringing in the Australian outback. There was Tyrone Jones, "gangsterslash-rapper" from the 'hood of Detroit whose dope rhymes of insurrection found purchase amidst war-torn humanity like a fetishist with an inflatable girlfriend. Also, he was a black African-American of colour. Rounding out the cast of his inner circle was Nick Bronson, a Canadian mechanic before the war and to this very day. His specialty, or rather his favourite modus operandi, was to fix the vehicles in the heat of battle. While they were running. Something of an adrenaline junkie, that one.</p><p>Tom pulled out two chairs and he and Daniel joined their friends.</p><p>"Good evening, sir!" Nick stood up and saluted. A sprightly grin donned his friendly face.</p><p>"Sit down." Daniel griped into an empty glass before him.</p><p>"Well, hey, you're the leader now. The big Spanish Watusi. Get used to dung like that." Logan smirked as he dealt some cards. "Are you two in?" he asked, looking towards Tom and Daniel.</p><p>"Yeah, sure," replied Tom.</p><p>"Yeah, why not?" said Daniel, almost in unison.</p><p>Good ol' Laura Vickers came over to the table, holding a tray full of beer. The beer was in tall glasses and had foam on top. "Hey, boys. You guys order these?" she asked.</p><p>"You know it," replied Tyrone. It could be said that they did not know it, but that's why they call them "spirits."</p><p>Laura placed the Beer-brand beer on the table. "Hi, Daniel," she said, placing one of the beers before him.<br/>
"Oh h-hi, Lau-Laura." Daniel felt his nervous stutter shifting into gear and pulling out of the driveway. Laura smiled and shimmied away, her hips like the metronome of a lounge singer with a caffeine addiction. "Damn it to hell every time," said Daniel. He hoped he wouldn't have a misfire like that in the heat of battle.</p><p>"Don't worry, man. You'll get her. You just got to play it cool," said Tom patting him on the shoulder. His hand lingered there as his other became wholly engrossed in his drink. He let out a hum at the sweet, awful taste of the alcohol, and he mumbled distractedly as he examined his cards. "You'll get her good."</p><p>"Oh damn it. I fold." Tyrone had only just glanced at his cards, and already he put his hand to his shiny forehead.</p><p>"Yeah, me too," replied Tom, throwing his cards on the table. Any excuse to be back in his drinking glass.</p><p>"I raise you two cigarettes and a tenner," said Nick, hoping Logan and Daniel had that much between them. He secretly hoped his favourite pastime of milking the rich boy wouldn't change now that the latter was his head honcho.</p><p>"Not if you’re still smoking those lousy Red Apples. Hmm, I call you on that one," said Logan, giving his head a shake. "What about you, Danny boy? Daniel?" He'd forgotten Daniel fucking hated that nickname.</p><p>Tonight, he didn't seem to mind. Daniel looked at his cards; he had the worst hand of cards. Sure, he couldn't compare to the others, but in poker, you generally want some kind of sequential or identical relationship between the cards, not the seven tangential degrees of Kevin Bacon.</p><p>"Damn it. I fold too," he said. Truth be told, perhaps he hadn't looked that closely at them. Perhaps he would have seen something had he stared a little harder. Perhaps he was a bit more on edge than he was willing to admit. "Hey guys, I'm gonna go get some air," said Daniel as he got off his chair.</p><p>"Hey, and when you get to the door, give us some, too, won't you?" Tom grinned and gave a little hiccough.</p><p>"Yeah, I'll join you." Logan got up from the table. Shortest poker hand ever.</p><p>"What about the game?" Nick asked. He let loose a brief glimpse of his cards when he shrugged.</p><p>"Err, you win. I need a fag anyway" replied Logan.</p><p>"'Fags,' eh?" Tyrone showed a morbid grin after picking up a new hand. "Yeah, I thought you was a pack a day man. Thems costin' you more'n you know, I think."</p><p>The two of them stepped outside into the frigid rush of inhospitable air. Logan lit his Morley and put it to his mouth, stifling himself on the fumes of burnt plant matter. He breathed in a puff of oxygen-repelling smoke and blew it out. Daniel watched as the smoke slowly drifted away into the night to join with the billowing vapours of snow in the wind. Logan once told him he'd never use electronic cigarettes, because those were for elitist posers.</p><p>"So what's-a-matter with you then?" Logan took another hurried breathe of smoke before the cold air could get into his lungs.</p><p>"Well, I don't know. I guess it's all the stress of being a leader." Daniel kicked at a clump of slush on his boot.</p><p>"How about that death of your brother? You seem to be taking that well."</p><p>Daniel paused to think about what Logan said, then replied, "I guess, to be honest, I envy my brother. He died and got the easy way out. Meanwhile, I'm stuck here about to lead another army to death."</p><p>Logan shook his head, dumped his unfinished cigarette on the ground, stomped and squished it flat like it was a horrid bug, then lit another cigarette and puffed on it like Thomas the bloody Tank Engine. "No, Daniel. You're not. You. Are gonna be. A great leader." He paused just like that as he smoked vehemently.</p><p>"Thanks, Logan," Daniel said in a monotone.</p><p>Logan smiled, showing just a tiny bit of his yellowed, misshapen teeth as he saw a familiar face approach them. It was Irish. His name, that is. Well, "Irish" wasn't his real name. He was Collin "Irish" Dwell, and he was going to have that damn "Irish" in the middle engraved on his tombstone by hook or by crook. They called him Irish because, well, he was Irish. They were fairly sure he wasn't Scottish. He was their heavy support gunner. He had a sort of a weird shape that made you think he was sprightly, but he had the muscle to saddle up a massive weapon all by himself.</p><p>"What's up, laddies?" Irish greeted.</p><p>Logan smiled his wry smoker smile. "Not much. Just taking in the evening air." He let out a cough.</p><p>"Cold as a witch's teat, aye." Irish turned to Daniel. "That reminds me, mate. I'm sorry to hear about your brother."</p><p>"Don't worry about it."</p><p>Who should jaywalk across the street then but Bella? Her makeup was smeared across her face from where she had been mourning the loss of her father like Emmett Kelly had just bounced another cheque. Her blond curls blew in the wind, tousling about her face. A few wavy strands caught in her eyes and on her lips as she approached Daniel. "Hey, Daniel. Is Tom in there?" she asked, pointing to the pub. Her voice was hoarse, probably from her traditional stuttering sobs. Daniel heard them once when her beagle-spitz mix, Patti, got run over by a chicken truck. She'd sounded kind of like a yappy dog.</p><p>"Yeah, he is," Daniel replied.</p><p>"Thanks." Bella took two tiny little sniffles as she walked into the pub. She paused in her clicking high heels and dabbed at her false eyelashes with a napkin.</p><p>"Man, she looks rough," said Irish. He punctuated his own statement with an emphatic nod.</p><p>"Show some respect. She just lost her father." Logan's voice came out as a swift growl.</p><p>"So? He lost his brother, and he's happy as Larry."</p><p>Daniel shook his head and returned to the establishment. He saw Tom and Bella by the bar and approached them.</p><p>Seeing him, Tom asked, "Hey, mate, you want another drink?" He was hoisting some Scotch into the air, which dribbled down the side of his glass. He quickly kissed it from spilling.</p><p>"No, I'm fine, thanks," Daniel said. He was saying it a lot. Little did he realize how very un-fine he was going to feel quite soon.</p><p>Three typical pub patrons, all men, walked over to them. One of them slapped Bella cordially on the buttocks. After a beat of dabbing at her hideous running mascara, she jolted.<br/>
"Hey, babe, what you say we ditch these losers and go 'round back?" the slapper said. His friends laughed at his ribald flattery.</p><p>"Oy, watch your mouth, you cocky cunt!" Tom sidled in between Bella and the walking douchebag.</p><p>The man's cohorts oohed and chuckled as if somebody had just been called to the vice principal's office. "Or what?" the man asked. Tom responded with a loud whiskey belch and punched the nameless hoodlum in the face. It was a kind of right to left diagonal punch that straightened his arm out. The recipient's mates rushed forward, and one smashed a bottle over Tom's head. Brown, sticky liquor washed out over his face and hair, so it wasn't a complete loss. This was the taste of battle Daniel had been craving. He punched the bottle-smasher, who then fell back into another person, stood up, and in a panic, punched the person who he had landed on. Then that guy punched him back, and his friend punched the bottle-smasher too, just for good measure. Events transpired in this manner for a while, sucking more and more people into the epicentre of the brawl, until there was just a mass of identically-dressed thugs wailing on one another. A surrounding throng of dipsomaniacs with drooping pants had formed to smack-talk those involved in the scene, but this dwindled as they soon became outnumbered, either by slipping away when their inhibited good sense took over, or as they, too, were overcome with primal bloodlust.</p><p>Ironically, Daniel was not at the epicentre of the brawl, which had moved away from the counter to make room for itself. He had the opportunity, then, to notice that each one of his friends was fighting random people. Bella had been virtually forgotten by this point as the men who had sexually harassed her were violently occupied at the moment. She exchanged helpless glances with Daniel, then, with bleary eyes, clopped her high heels back out of the establishment. Tyrone had one man in a head lock and was kicking another on the floor while incessantly repeating, "What you say, homey! What you say, homey!" Logan and Irish had come in, exchanged cherubic shrugs, and joined the fray like a nuclear family on a Sunday drive.</p><p>Amidst the din, Daniel noticed a Father Christmas-looking figure mosey on through the fracas, stealing other patrons' drinks. Nick was holding some hoodie with a bowl-cut whilst Tom punched the person in the stomach, alternating with each arm while singing some military march.<br/>
"My cat; it had kittens. I gave one away. I now only have three kittens left! Right! Left, right, left!"</p><p>Needless to say, it was a total ruckus. Some men were circling the snooker table wielding billiard poles. They clanged them together like wooden light sabres. One missed swinging at the other who ducked and jabbed the first man in the chest. A third man with a large nose and a larger mug of beer said, “Oh, and that’s a bad miss.” With greater speed than were they to answer an incident of domestic abuse, the riot force broke in and started tasering all the men. You'd think a football match had just gotten out. A pair of Taser probes swooped just underneath Tom's arm, so Tom turned an about-face and cordially head-butted the shooter in the face. In retaliation, three of the riot squad jumped Tom.</p><p>Coming to his senses that he was in deep shit, Daniel finally ceased revelling in the hectic hubbub surrounding him and turned for the exit. There was nothing more to see here. That's when he was hit square in the face by a baton. "Ugh!" He put his hands up to his face in defence. Everything went dark, and he collapsed to the ground.</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Greatness thrusted. Set and forget training. A load of bull.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Daniel's head was aching and he felt dizzy. He remembered wanting a mirror because he could keep picturing his face feeling like shattered windscreen. Every time he had dreamt, it always ended with someone reminding him his face was smashed in, and he tried to jolt awake only to enter the next dream. He finally awoke lying on the cold hard floor of a rusty, degraded cell block. Gulags weren't exactly known for their propensity for home decorating, no matter how fabulous Putin felt.</p><p>"Well. Good morning, sunshine," cooed a familiar voice. Daniel looked up and saw Tom in the cell across from him. Tom's forehead was cut open and the wound was begging to scab over. Nevertheless, he gave Daniel a chipper wave. The ache of his hangover was probably worse than that ugly wound.</p><p>"Where are we?" Daniel climbed to his feet. Tom gave a meagre look around from his seated position on the bed.</p><p>"We are in a cell!" Tom answered, making his voice sound like some manic automaton meant to give directions while driving in a car. "Haven't figured out yet where to go for the teardrop tattoos, but we could always hitch our trousers down for the gentlemen callers." How the hell he was in a joking mood with the hangover he ought to have had only made Daniel's head ache harder.</p><p>Daniel gripped his forehead, but that hurt. He grabbed his temples, but that hurt too.<br/>"What happened?"</p><p>"Um, let's see. Bar fight. Riot squad. They broke it up. Threw us all in the slammer! That's about the size of it. We're locked up here in Commie Christmas Land, and they won't even pipe in Slade."</p><p>"Damn it. Damn this. Damn that. Do they not know we have got a war to fight? How long will we be here?" asked Daniel.</p><p>"Until someone pays for our bail, I guess. Tyrone, Nick and Logan are already sprung," replied Tom. "'Ere. Your parents can help a friend out, can't they?"</p><p>"What about Irish?" asked Daniel.</p><p>"The sneaky fuck got away." Tom laughed. "Man, that little Irish fucker can run."</p><p>Two guards approached Daniel's and Tom's cells, and they hadn't even needed to ring for service. The first guard, sporting a smiley face nametag reading "Damien", unlocked both the cells. He must have been at a higher pay rate than his co-worker. "Come on, your bail has been paid." He had a rough sort of gravelly timbre, and he waved his arm in repeated circles like an impatient train conductor. Tom and Daniel walked out of their cells and into the lobby. "You'll have to sign out," said Damien, continuously coaching them all the while. "We're walking. We're walking. Sign in your own hand." He was like a pushy tour guide bucking for employee of the month. Tom and Daniel obediently signed out with the strange inclination hanging in their bruised heads that they'd just spent a night at the Y.</p><p>Bella and Laura approached them on the outside. Tom attempted to check his breath, shrugged, and then kissed Bella. "I take it you bailed us out." Tom hugged his girlfriend, his hands shaking above her hips as though ready to dance on the spot.</p><p>"Well, I paid for you. Laura paid for Daniel." Bella indicated herself, then Laura, pointing with a gloved hand that held her purse. </p><p>Daniel looked at Laura. "Er, thanks, Laura. For bailing me out."</p><p>Laura smiled. "No problem. You're one of my best tippers, but that was quite a mess you made of my bar." The four of them left the station as they spoke, not wishing to linger lest the staff had other legal minutiae to wrangle them with.</p><p>"Oh, yeah. Sorry about that." Daniel found he was a bit less nervous speaking to her when he had something that needed to be said.</p><p>"No problem. That's what insurance is for. Anyway, I got to get to work. Morning shift at the Ivory." Laura kissed Daniel on the cheek as if the gesture would be no surprise and walked off. Daniel's facial wound stung for a long time afterward.</p><p>"See? Told you she liked you." Tom rolled his head in a cocky gesture and smirked. Daniel breathed out a laugh.</p><p>"Okay, I got to get going. Try not to go to war, or at least have a good day if you do!" Bella kissed Tom as she departed, her legs walking away until her lips had to pull away.</p><p>"Hey, we better get back to the camp. The drill instructor is gonna kill me," Tom said. He looked to check his watch, and then realized he hadn't put his attire back on since it'd been confiscated.</p><p>"Raring to go already?" Daniel asked.</p><p>"Only way past a hangover is through it!"</p><p>One brief commute later and Tom was face-first in the snow. "Come on. I want a hundred push-ups from you!" screamed the drill instructor. It was almost eight, and his voice was already cracking from too much screaming.</p><p>"A hundred? He can barely do ten!" shouted Irish.</p><p>"Fuck you! Fucking fuck. Fucker." Tom was now on his eleventh push-up. He was just relieved he didn't need to jump rope.</p><p>"You do not get to talk you filthy maggot!" The drill instructor kicked Tom's arms. The instructor had been booted out of "Up With People," but his motivational skills hadn't suffered any. Tom dropped into the snow.</p><p>"Now, start over! Now, now, now!" The drill instructor was well-paid for his time. Tom let out a stressed sigh and began again.</p><p>Daniel, meanwhile, was in no better a situation in his father's office. "Daniel, my boy, it's time for you to step up and take your brother's position."</p><p>"But Dad, I can't lead an army. The only time I even fired a gun was at the carnival and that was at a tin can! Even if it wasn't rigged, I still probably would've missed."</p><p>"Yes, yes, but you have had experience. And besides, you'll have plenty of opportunities to learn." Peter patted the back of his son's chair as he waltzed around his office.</p><p>"But Dad, I'm just not a leader." Daniel tried to look at anything but the pre-marked linoleum floor: the faux-wooden desk, his father's shiny, uncomfortable shoes. Nothing captured his attention.</p><p>"Hey, that's enough of that, lad. Our family's made of leaders. I fought in the Gulf War. My father pushed to keep the war in Viet Nam going. His father had some very good ideas about the Korean War. His father successfully used reverse psychology on Mahatma Gandhi. And his grandfather helped promote trade amongst the Cape Colonies. You just have to discover what makes you a strong leader."</p><p>Daniel sighed, and then waved his hands in a disparaging gesture. "Look, Dad, I'm not ready for this responsibility. Don't you think it's a bit soon?"</p><p>"Your brother didn't think so, either, and he was an excellent leader. For the majority of his military career. Without him, the time is now, son. Please, we need you."</p><p>Daniel thought for a moment. The marks of the linoleum seemed to rush this way and that like ants at rush hour. Only one question occupied his mind, no matter what others he tried to conceive. Why did they need him in particular? What qualities exactly did he possess that his own father had such faith in, and which his friends took for granted? Daniel let out another stressed sigh. "Fine." It was fine. Being a leader was just fine. Everything was fine. He would be fine.</p><p>"Good. Let's get you into a uniform that actually fits and down into training. No time like the present to start training!"</p><p>Daniel nodded. "I have one condition," he said.</p><p>"What is it, my son?" Peter slapped his hands down on the back of Daniel's chair and twitched his moustache in apprehension.</p><p>"Me and my friends stay in the same squad." He still did not look at his father, but his lips set in a taut line. He wasn't sure what leverage he had for such a deal, but on this point he could feel the momentum welling up within to finally argue.</p><p>"We wouldn't have it any other way." His father shook his head as if to dismiss the idea of any other arrangement. “And one last thing, son. Go out and kill those ponies to the extreme.”</p><p>Daniel’s attention was struck at this address. “Thank you, Father. I will.”</p><p>For the next ten minutes, Daniel was getting ready, dressing into his green uniform before being sent down to the firing range. He approached the drill instructor and introduced himself with some hesitation as he wondered if he ought to shout at this man in order to get his point across. "Sir! My name is Daniel Williams, and I'm here to learn how to shoot!"</p><p>The drill instructor looked Daniel up and down. Up and down, again and again, as if he were really reaching to find some flaw with the volunteer before him. He then pointed to Tom.<br/>"Go over there and practice then," the Drill instructor said in a low, angry tone.</p><p>Daniel walked over to Tom, who was lying down on his stomach and holding a sniper rifle. Daniel lay next to him, feeling a touch awkward. "Take it you're in our squad now," said Tom.</p><p>"Yeah. I need to learn how to shoot." It wasn't an easy thing for Daniel to admit, but somehow, the prospect of his impending fate was making a whole lot of things feel easier lately. Hitting that guy. Apologizing to Laura. Talking back to his father.</p><p>Tom laughed. He fired his rifle and hit a target six hundred metres away. The drill instructor approached him, clutching his clipboard and indecisive about whether to blow on his little whistle or not. "Private Taylor-Randall!" shouted the instructor. He was an excitable sort of man who obscured his eyes behind thick shades and the brim of his hat. It was colder than Vladimir Lenin's giant stone head in the Antarctic in the ice-ridden fairy land of the Russian tundra, but still the man wore short sleeves, khaki shorts, and long socks. His voice was incapable of descending below a certain decibel, and he would bob and jerk his head around with inquisitive, energetic motions whenever he spat his syllables.</p><p>"Yes, sir," replied Tom with a choke.</p><p>"I think we finally found you something you're good at besides eatin' Kentucky Fried Chicken!" shouted the instructor. Irish and the rest of their friends laughed.</p><p>"Hey, Irish, I think we found you something that you're good at besides being a cocky prick," said Tom.</p><p>"Oh yeah? What would that be?" asked Irish, all too eagerly. He made no denial of the talents Tom ascribed to him.</p><p>"Sucking the instructor's dick!" Tom had a wide grin for himself. This time, the whole squad laughed at his witty bon mot, including the instructor.</p><p>"Hey, fuck you!" Irish had to shout over the sound of laughter that kept going and going.</p><p>Daniel readied the M1 carbine that he had been given moments ago. He placed it to his shoulder and looked down its sights. Daniel was about to fire at a target when the drill instructor tapped him on the shoulder. "Here, boy, take this." The instructor handed Daniel a stem gun, an old model of submachine gun. Daniel gave a decisive nod, and then proceeded to open fire at three targets. It felt good, discharging his weapon, even if at first he missed. He just kept firing. His finger soon ached from pushing that trigger, only to be met by the staccato seizure of his gun, but still he kept shooting, clenching his teeth through the pain, biting down on all the suffering he'd been tamping down for weeks. There was no way for him to gauge time, but the interminable clock was far from his mind now. It was at least as distant as the target he punished, obliterating its face as more and more bullets finally struck their mark, and eventually gathered around one single, central, lethal point. The minutes flew by. He was having too much fun. After only an hour or two of practice, he was making nearly every shot. His earlier doubts gave way to a kind of god-like exhilaration. He now had the power to decimate a piece of balsa a hundred yards away.</p><p>After another hour or so, the troops were sent onto the next test: The "Bull Ring". It was exactly as you'd think. A section of the wasted land had been marked off as a ring, indented into the ground so that a sentient male bovine was unable to escape. It'd been virtually dumped in there, a thick wooden fence had been built around it, and so the creature was, for some untold reason, perturbed, as if it didn't like being thrown into a pit and chased about by a bunch of angry teenagers with automatic rifles. A good enough reason of antagonism to pit trainee soldiers against it. After all, they were fighting the good fight.</p><p>"Right, men; listen up! The following test will be a test of your speed. You are going to go into the ring with the bull. It is about the same speed and has the same power as a charger," explained the Instructor.</p><p>"A Dodge Charger?" Tyrone asked.</p><p>"What, d'you mean a unicorn?" asked Irish, slurring his D like it was a J. He may have still been drunk from the night before. Did we mention he was Irish?</p><p>"Yes, private." Like all ineffectual middle managers, the instructor did not sound happy about communicating with his trainees.</p><p>"Well, I'll go first! I ain't afraid of no sissy, un-masculine, ladylike vagina pony!" Irish gloated as he stepped into the ring. The superior machismo of the stringy Irishman was positively bristling, and he had all the boldness as if he suffered from auto-brewery syndrome.</p><p>Tyrone leant into Daniel and whispered to him, "Bet you twenty quid he gets fucked." A perverse grin dimpled Tyrone's face.</p><p>Daniel tried to keep his sadistic laugh quiet. "You're on." He shook Tyrone's hand, eager to see whether his friend was buggered by a bull or not.</p><p>Irish stood in the ring. "So where is it?" he asked, spinning around dumbly and waving his arms about as though he had the charisma to pull off such a gesture.</p><p>"Right there," replied the instructor, being bizarrely more helpful than was usual. He pointed behind Irish, so Irish turned around. Noticing that in a big, circular dirt pit, there was really nowhere for a large, angry bull to hide, he saw the bull charging at him. Before he could even move, the bull rammed into him, its deadly, brandished horns spaced just around his wee, sprightly leprechaun-ic frame. The bull hooked its horns underneath his armpits, and despite looking like its great bulging head lacked a neck, it jerked back and flung him. Irish flew up into the air and crashed to the ground.</p><p>"Shit, faeces and excrement! I think it popped a bollock," shouted Irish, joking about his childish play-words for testicles in spite of the potential damage to his spinal column.</p><p>The squad began to laugh out of sheer scorn. "Haw, haw! He done broke his testeecles!" Logan bellowed.</p><p>Irish navigated his way to his feet and approached the gate to exit the pen, but the bull charged again. This time, he slammed his cranium into Irish's back side. Irish screamed in pain over the sound of something inside of him cracking as he was once again propelled into the air. He crashed to the ground, and, ever a bon vivant, screamed in his hoary tongue, "Me foocking arse!"</p><p>"Right, men. Take a short break, then get in there and help your downed man," shouted the instructor. Even telling them to take a momentary breather, his head flailed and bobbed maddeningly with his hoarse screams. Brave Nick climbed in and went to grab Irish, thinking it would be a simple matter to clean up after him once again. Then the bull rammed Nick into the fence. Nick was immediately paralyzed with pain, though his lungs had enough wind in them so he could groan. The pressure with which he hit the fence made him momentarily forget which directions up and down were in. Not yet determining the pattern of this string of events, Tyrone and Logan jumped in. The bull charged at Tyrone, but he dodged doggedly and stepped neatly over Irish to help Nick. Logan went to pick up Irish when the bull charged for him. That was when the drill instructor stuck a harmonica to his lips and began to play some nameless, jaunty tune.</p><p>Unfortunately for the bull, Logan was Australian, and had been abusing wild animals since he was wearing diapers. That was not an exaggeration. Logan jumped and grabbed hold of the bull's horns. At first, the bull just ran around the pen, dragging Logan with him. Tyrone was busy trying to look tough as he draped Nick onto his back, though Nick was cussing that he'd only had the wind knocked out of him and could very well walk. Irish, who still couldn't get back up, flinched and flailed on his stomach as the bull nearly stampeded over him with its weighty hooves. Wanting in on this fantastic action, Tom and Daniel jumped into the ring as well as if this were a Spanish convention. They hastily dragged Irish out by both of his arms, though he wailed about his stomach being dragged on the rocky ground. Tyrone had just finished getting Nick out, struggling to keep him aloft on his shoulders which weighed down his heels into the mud. Not having had enough, Tyrone, Daniel and Tom then jumped back into the ring in hopes of starting everything all over again. Tyrone jumped onto the bull's back, using his glandular weight to slow it down. Logan still hung onto the bull's horns for dear life, spouting pithy Australian epigrams. </p><p>Though flailing its head wildly in hopes of throwing off the persistent Aussie, the bull managed to spot Daniel. Daniel quickly realized he must have irked the bull's ire, because under his jacket, he wore a red Russian top. The bull, having been genetically modified and then psychologically trained from birth to turn aggressive at the colour red, charged at him. Daniel was a fast runner, though, and was easily outrunning the bull that was chasing him around the ring. His knees jutted up into the air, his arms stiff and held at angles at his sides, but every time he looked over his shoulder, the creature was not far behind him. Tom ran after the bull, screaming madly as if that would help, and after about three laps around the ring, he swung his foot forward. Having a wide margin for error, he kicked the bull in its billowing bull-ocks, and it collapsed to the ground with a tormented scream. "Bitch, just call me Tom Green," Tom declared proudly.</p><p>"Kicked like a true Aussie!" Logan squawked, then all six of them seized the opportunity to climb out of the ring, panting.</p><p>Tom patted Daniel on the shoulder quite a bit, as though his shaking nerves needed anything to hold onto. "You're buying the drinks later," he said, gasping for air. It was like a catch phrase to him.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The paper chase. Jelly donuts. Let them eat cake.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The wallpaper was pasted in paper. Frayed parchment was nailed over every single inch, smothering every corner of the Dictatorial Head Offices, Berlin Division™, so that the only hint of a window was light passing through the worn and yellowed pages. Even the doors, which had been carved with intricate wallflowers by order of Otto von Bismarck, were matted with layers of written notes, jotted information, and the stray thoughts of a disturbed mind who should have been far too busy even to spend time writing it all down. That was why she had the secretary. And just where was that goddamn secretary of hers? The purple unicorn with her dark, even bangs muttered this question aloud to herself in varying degrees of obstinacy as she rooted about the well-organized stack of papers that covered a map drawn across the desk of one Constantin Fehrenbach (deceased). A loud thump at one of the shining squares of papers alerted the distracted mare's attention from beneath her desk where she had kicked a rubber band ball. Must remember to buy more orange rubber bands, she thought to herself. If I don't follow the Roy G. Biv, I'll have to start all over from scratch.</p><p>She scratched at the hoof-marred wooden floors with her hoof, became momentarily lost in a book she’d been in the middle of reading entitled “Circle of Knowledge: A Classified, Simplified, Visualized Book of Answers”, and then recollected the noise she had just heard. She picked her stubby head up with a snooty frown, and pushed open the window to find an owl. A few stray parchments fluttered out into the bitter European wind, but the bird swooped quickly to gather them all in its talons and carry them inside. As though her front hoof bore some unexplained suction powers, she pulled the window shut again. "Owlowicious. Have you seen the First Secretary of Servitude™ anywhere? Or is he too busy scarfing down Berliners to anticipate my needs?"</p><p>Because it was an owl, it responded with an uninformative "Hoo!"</p><p>"Spike~!" the purple pony bellowed. "Spike the Mouth-breathing Dragon! Goddammit, where are you, you dick-sucking faggot?"</p><p>The door swung open and in tromped a diminutive reptile wearing an alpine hat and lederhosen, as well as a grim expression. "Alright already, quit your menstruating, Twinkle Sprinkle. I'm here already." He then buckled forward, breathing heavily, as though William Conrad had just gone for a brisk jog. Twilight just stared at him for a long while as he held his knees and gasped for breath.</p><p>"Poor baby dragon. I guess all this delicious, ozone-ridden air doesn't agree with your queer lungs. Well, you're just gonna have to get used to it, sandy vagina. Someday, you're going to have to learn to do things correctly. It's very tiring to have to tell everypony what to do all the time."</p><p>Spike could taste blood. "I'm not a baby. I can construct elaborate sentences, read and write fluently, comprehend and utilize sarcasm, and hold a steady job as your personal ward. I'm no more an infant than they let minors run libraries, orchards, clothing outlets, animal shelters, sweets shops or weather patrol. You're kinda hostile, you know that? Like, even more so than usual."</p><p>"Know thy enemy, Spike. We have to do everything by their book! We're not in our world, and the rules of physics, logic, anatomy and morality are entirely different here. This is the way the ape-descendants speak on Earthquestria! Now, since you've obviously caught your breath, I want you to take a letter."</p><p>"What am I, your mailbox?"</p><p>"Dear First Secretary of Partitude™, your Perfect Monarch for Life™ requests your immediate presence at the Dictatorial Head Offices, Berlin Division™. Hugs and kisses, your Perfect Monarch for Life™."</p><p>Spike didn't write anything down on the scroll he had procured from his pocket. "Do you mean Pinkie Pie? She's right outside in the hall."</p><p>"Goddammit, Spike, just send the fucking letter."</p><p>Spike rolled his eyes and his shoulders. He then lifted the scroll aloft and burned it in a plume of flame ejected from his mouth. The paper sizzled into ash.</p><p>"Well? Is it sent?" Twilight asked, although she had seen Spike send a letter in such a manner maybe sixty-four times to date.</p><p>"Of course it isn't. There's no magic for us in this world. When you breathe fire on a letter, it just burns into ash. Look, I obviously can't do this the right way. Why don't you go do it yourself? It's not like I'm your dog or something."</p><p>"How about I send your puny little ass off to the Ural Mountains? Bet your scaly little blood won't like that shit, huh? You can't even get me dragons like I asked you to. I'm totally giving you the ban hammer for keeps this time."</p><p>"Yeah, whatever. Have a nice war." Spike pushed his way back out of the office without waiting another second. Out in the hall, he could be heard saying, "Hey, Pinkie. Twinkle Sprinkle needs you. I think she wants to put you on the same cycle or something." He then departed from the building and marched off for the Ural Mountains from Berlin on foot.</p><p>A pink Equestrian pony pranced into the room with a big smile on her piggy face and a spiked helmet upon her frilly 'fro. She was quite fat. Twilight took one long look at what she had on her head and said nothing. Pinkie Pie explained anyway. "I'm a German Kaiser! Welp, I'm the FSP reporting to the DHOBD to meet with the PML! What can I do you for, your crabbiness?"</p><p>"Pinkie Pie, you understand the science and nature of this realm better than any on our side. I'm hereby promoting you to Scientific Advisor."</p><p>"Of Partitude?" Pinkie beamed.</p><p>Twilight sighed begrudgingly. "Of Partitude. You're the big SAP, alright. What intel have you got for me on the prey's movements?"</p><p>"Oh! Um." Pinkie stopped cavorting through one of the piles of books strewn about the room. "Well, the Russian army's planning a second invasion! I know that much."</p><p>Twilight clasped her front hooves to her face in an expression of mock-shock. "Oooh! A second invasion! And then maybe a third and a fourth, and so on into infinity!" She snapped and threw a book at the pink pony, who let out a pained grunt as the spine collided with her cranium. Pinkie stopped flailing her legs up in the air, but remained on her back. "I could've told you that much myself! And you're a cock-sucking faggot, too. In fact, I'm firing you as secretary. Now, you know what you need to do?"</p><p>Pinkie Pie got up and started bouncing in place. Happily, she said, "No, I don't!"</p><p>"I need you to get out and let me concentrate, because I'm a perfect freaking librarian! Geez, whose leg do I have to hump to get a dry martini around here?" With this dramatic shout, the window she had not properly fastened blew open once more, and a plethora of papers scattered outside and to the wind. Her owl hooted incessantly as Pinkie departed to leave her commander alone with her strategizing thoughts. As was the custom in her homeland, she spontaneously burst into song:</p><p>Oh, you have to tell them what to do<br/>You have to tell them what to say<br/>You have to tell them what to think<br/>Or else they’ll get it wrong!</p><p>I wear the bossiest boots in town<br/>You’d better worship my kick-ass crown<br/>Or else I’ll kick your poop chutes around<br/>That’s how we’ll get along</p><p>If you deviate and don’t obey<br/>I’ll give more work and dock your pay<br/>Come in the weekend, don’t delay!<br/>Time theft? You lost your job today!</p><p>Yes, Germany’s the place for me<br/>World leader in efficiency<br/>No excuses! Papers, please!<br/>Rote life of bureaucratic ease!</p><p>So you must do just as I say<br/>And you must think with the class<br/>If I should hear you disagree<br/>It means that you are wrong!</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Moving ahead. Meet the queen. The sex scene.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Three months had passed, and Daniel and the squad had just finished training for the entire war. The drill instructor paced up and down in front of the squad of graduates. He had a peculiar fashion of walking with his hands folded behind his back, lifting his foot straight off the ground, then flicking it to the side and then forward. He marched like this with impeccable, robotic precision for a good forty-five minutes, no less, before he spoke. "Today, men, for those of you who are, is the day you become a true soldier." This instructor did not shout as much. The previous one had died in a freak moose accident, but his replacement was nearly identical, so it was good enough. "After months of training, you guys are being shipped out to the war tomorrow. Remember to pack light. You have sixteen hours to say goodbye to your loved ones, which is more time than a bunch of dropouts would need. If your loved ones loved you, they wouldn't let you need to rely on the army for support, now would they? After that, you will be dropped into the battle, and then you will show those hoofed motherfuckers what we are really made of."</p><p>The men, sans Daniel, let out a cheer, for he knew this meant he would soon be leading the army. He wondered if there could be anything he was forgetting. "Now, men, clear off, and have a good time!" The drill instructor punctuated his monologue with a chipper wave and a tight-lipped smile. The men looked at one another in awkward silence after the instructor departed, then two by two, they began to walk off.</p><p>Tom walked over to Daniel. "Hey, man, can you believe it? I mean, like, really dig it, man? We are finally going to take down these wankers. Bloody yobbo fairies." Tom was more than ready for war.</p><p>"They're ponies, not fairies," a nearby Irish reminded him.</p><p>"Yeah, I can't believe it," said Daniel in a melancholy voice. "We're gonna go off to war, and then who knows?" He still had some lingering doubt that his father would keep true to their deal three months ago, but he also had the faint notion that he was just looking for a doubt to feed his understandable apprehension.</p><p>"Oh, come on, man. Surely you ain't still worried about leading us into battle." Tom slapped Daniel hard on the back.</p><p>"Yes, actually, I am." Daniel wasn't sure why, but he was feeling a bit perturbed.</p><p>"Why?" Tom shrugged plaintively, looking about as though to demonstrate he could see nothing physical that would plague Daniel's mood. "Look, you will do fine, man, perfectly fine. Trust me, we all believe in ya, mate." His hand slapped onto Daniel's chest, and he shook his friend as if trying to wake him up.</p><p>"Yeah, but that doesn't feel like enough. Just because you guys believe in me, does not mean I'm going to be able to do it." He sneered in annoyance, mostly at himself. He wanted to express himself, but he knew what he'd just said wasn't bound to instil a lot of confidence. But would Tom know that he knew that?</p><p>Tom rolled his head upon his shoulders to give Daniel a serious look. "Look, Daniel. Look. I want you to look. Are you looking? How about we do this: We go and get a few drinks. Maybe ten or twenty. Hey, who knows? You might get lucky with You-Know-Who." Tom elbowed Daniel with this suggestion. Daniel smiled.</p><p>"Okay."</p><p>Tom pumped both fists triumphantly. "Yes, that's it! And, hey, even if you turn out to be a shit leader, who cares? We will all be dead." He waved his arms in another apathetic gesticulation and slapped Daniel's shoulder one more time.</p><p>"Tom, you're not helping."</p><p>Tom laughed that he was not helping, and they proceeded to the pub on foot.</p><p>Meanwhile, in Berlin, others had found cause for joy. Rainbow Dash sat in her throne, trying various poses that would make her seem like a “player”. She tried crossing one leg and slumping over the arm of her chair. She tried sitting straight and rigid, crossing her front legs. She let out an annoyed groan as she tried sitting on her head. She was bored. There were two human slaves, a pair of homosexual males, next to her, fanning her with large ostrich wings, having been utterly humiliated by her superior femininity.</p><p>Twilight Sparkle trotted merrily into Rainbow Dash's chamber. "Queen, I have some bad news," she announced proudly.</p><p>The queen sighed, rolling her eyes as she stretched out on her back across the throne's arms. "What is it now, brainiac?" she asked. "Don't tell me the Fountain of Blood needs restocking. Or that there's no time on today's schedule for Punchies. Or that the conquering of the Isle of Mykonos proved too costly and I won't have an island resort now."</p><p>Twilight flipped through a pad of paper. "Well, firstly, Rarity renamed the Berlin region to 'Richard Berlin,' so I suspended her from the position of First Secretary of Geography™. Oh, and less important, the humans have formed another futile army, this time led by...just checking Pinkie's 'Naughty List' here...'Daniel Williams'. Seriously, what kind of name is that? I named you First Secretary of Strategy™. What do you think we should we do?"</p><p>Rainbow rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation. "It's about time! Well, when do they arrive? Better be soon, eh!" Her voice squeaked like a sneaker on polished linoleum.</p><p>"Uh, what's it say on the time table here? Tomorrow. They're commuting in by air and by sea!"</p><p>"Uh! Not soon enough! Well, it's pretty obvious what I want you to do, eh. I want you to find out which way William Daniels is coming in by, and I want you to, um, I dunno. I guess kill him." She batted blandly at one of the ostrich wings.</p><p>"Oh, good plan! Great strategy, your majesty! It will be done, Queenie."</p><p>"One more thing, eh," Rainbow Dash said, turning a wanton gaze to Twilight.</p><p>The unicorn blushed as their eyes met, her own gaze twinkling with dewy anticipation. "Oh, yes, my Queen? Whatever could it be?"</p><p>Rainbow spoke with slow deliberation. "Is 'Queen Rainblight Dash' a badass-enoughsounding name?"</p><p>Twilight was already backing to the door of the Staatsoper Unter den Linden. "Oh, absolutely, your highness! Very bad in the flank!"</p><p>“Okay, great. Have a nice war!” Rainbow said. With that, Twilight left the room.</p><p>The queen was left with her slaves to smile to herself. "It's time the human race went instinct." She gleefully rubbed her front hooves together, before tapping one to her chin. "Or is that extinct?" She then turned her head to the slave on her left. With all the manic grin of a children's birthday clown, she lunged forward and cleanly bit the slave's head off. The other slave began to shake, as if overcome with a seizure of fear. Rainbow Dash turned her head to the other slave and frowned at him in disapproval. "You better work twice as hard now, eh!"</p><p>Back in Moscow, a city in Russia, the pub was busier than Hell's influx registration. Tom bit the cap off of a bottle of draft beer as he danced with Bella. Tyrone performed a rap on a little stage, which was barely wide enough for his legs to stand pressed together on, positioned in the room's only corner. Daniel sat on a table by his lonesome, watching Logan getting his rocks off with a hot girl in the corner of the bar, wondering how old she was, and Irish was getting rejected and slapped several times per each woman he solicited. He would ask one once, and she would reject him two times and slap him thrice. Yes, everyone was having a good time. Everyone except for Daniel.</p><p>That all suddenly changed when Laura sat down next to him. In her hands, she held a bottle of vodka and two glasses. "Fancy a drink?" she asked.</p><p>Daniel smiled and quickly got off the table and into a proper chair. "Yeah, sure."</p><p>Laura smiled and poured two drinks, handing one to Daniel, which he hastily began to drink. Laura said, "So, I hear you like me."</p><p>Daniel spat out his drink with surprise. "Er, no. Where did you hear that?" he asked, trying to put on a cool laid back voice. His eyes darted about shiftily as he leant back in his seat too far. The chair's legs clopped and he sat up stiffly. Of course his attempt to play it safe didn't work.</p><p>"A little Tomcat told me."</p><p>"Curse you, Tomcat." Daniel narrowed his eyes, shaking his fist in Tom's direction. Tom was busy shaking everything he had, dancing with Bella who was shimmying in place and staring intently at him.</p><p>"What?" asked Laura, shaking her head.</p><p>"I said, Tom must have lied." Daniel nodded.</p><p>"Oh, well. That's a shame, because if you did, I would have done this." Laura then leant in and began to kiss Daniel. That was the moment Tom and Bella hurried to sit down at the table. Tom was licking his lips.</p><p>"Oy, what 'ave we got 'ere?" Tom asked in a cheeky manner. Laura stopped kissing Daniel, her face drifting away from his with a blank stare.</p><p>"I get off work at ten PM," explained Laura as she sashayed back to work. Her manager nagged her that kissing customers counted as taking her ten-minute break for the shift, and he would have to dock her pay.</p><p>"See, man? I told you she liked you." Tom laughed and then hiccupped as he wiped away some beer running down from his lip to his chin.</p><p>"Yeah, but you're still a dick," Daniel replied.</p><p>"Oh, yeah. Why is that?" asked Tom, canting his head at a quizzical angle.</p><p>"You told her I liked her."</p><p>"So, it worked, didn't it?" He sounded surprised.</p><p>"I guess," said Daniel with a grin.</p><p>"Sorry, Daniel, but do you mind if I have my man to myself for a bit?" Bella rolled her eyes, and then stood up, shaking her head and putting her hands down on the table.</p><p>"Go for it," replied Daniel from behind his beverage.</p><p>Tom stood up and swaggered after Bella. As he passed Daniel, he said, "Looks like we are both getting laid tonight, at the same time."</p><p>Daniel laughed. That night, when the bar was all locked up, Laura absconded with Daniel to her bedroom. There, she did undress in the front of his presence and verily welcomed him unto her bed, and that was quite possibly a contending runner-up for the best night of Daniel's life.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter Five</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Out for delivery. Seventeen. Over the hills and far away.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Early the next morning, say, at five on the nose, the squad met at the army base airfield. The weather and ground were cold and damp, and the men were freezing, but they'd grown accustomed to the involuntary shivering and teeth chattering the human animal invariably experiences in the harsh tundra environment. Even if they hadn't been woken before the butt-crack of dawn for the past three months, their anxieties and anticipations for the grave realities to come prevented their tiredness. Tom was looking at a sheet of paper with an office print out of a picture that Bella had taken of herself the night before and given to him. With their clothes looking dishevelled, the two of them were hugging tightly, standing cheek to cheek and making duck faces at the trendy iDroidBerry Smartphone she was holding out with one skinny arm. Tom was going to miss her. He just hoped he would see her again.</p><p>Daniel approached him, huddling his own arms at his sides for warmth. "Hey, man," Tom said, looking up from his picture.</p><p>"Hey," replied Daniel before he blew into his hands to warm them.</p><p>"So, you ready?" asked Tom.</p><p>"As ready as I can be," Daniel replied. As Tom folded and tucked his picture in the breast pocket of his jacket, Logan walked over to them.</p><p>"Hey, lads. Are you nervous?" asked Logan in a calm, low voice with just the sort of smile and arm shake of a children's television host.</p><p>"Kinda," replied Tom, twiddling his thumbs as if he were still folding up that sheet of printer paper. Daniel nodded his head in sullen silence.</p><p>"Well, there's no need to be. We're gonna be fine, chaps," Logan assured them without explanation.</p><p>"How do you know that?" asked Daniel, his face a caricature of scepticism.</p><p>Logan stared at him with a helpless frown. "Well, I guess I don't."</p><p>Nick walked over to them. "Hey, guys! Oh, Daniel, Commander Johnson wants to see you in his office. Pronto."</p><p>Daniel thanked him for the information, though he didn't feel very thankful. He felt as if he was being summoned to the principal's office. He felt completely out of his league, with no way to predict what was going to happen today, let alone tomorrow, or if he'd see next week. All this dread made his hand feel numb, so that he didn't feel himself turning the doorknob into Johnson's office. He couldn't feel anything tangible, and he thought he was losing touch with consciousness for a moment. When he walked in, he saw three men standing around a table. On the table was a map of the location which Daniel and the squad (along with other squads) were set to attack. The three men stopped poring over it with their fingers and little figurines when Daniel walked in, and instead they each looked at him, still bent over their map.</p><p>Standing from left to right, Daniel only had a dim recollection of who these men were. Avery Johnson was a black gentleman with five-o'clock shadow and a shrub of a moustache that hugged his upper lip. He had some hints of grizzled maturity to his prim and even face, but laugh lines frayed the narrow space around his eyes. General Ripley was a far older man whose uniform was decked out with more medals than Daniel could believe any single person could earn. These two gentlemen wore formal expressions of grim antagonism, but the third man's face was wrinkled in a hyperbole of anger. Even the black baseball cap that Lucas Foresight wore over his dark hair could not overshadow the graven rage set between his brow and chin. Unlike the officious fashion standards of the other two, Lucas was wearing a black combat suit, suitable for his position as the leader of the Special Forces group's alpha squad.</p><p>"Ah, here he is," said Johnson with a sort of smile that wasn't exactly a smile. He was too busy to be too friendly, though he greeted Daniel over to the table. "Daniel, this here is General Gabriel Ripley and Sergeant Lucas Foresight."</p><p>When Daniel shook their hands, he found that each of them had strong grips, although Lucas shook his hand a bit too hard for comfort. "So, what did you need me for, sir?" asked Daniel.</p><p>"Well, you’re the leader. You need to help us with battle plans," was Johnson's explanation.</p><p>Daniel looked at the map. There were three toy trucks representing the land infantry, toy planes representing where the air crafts would fly, and toy boats representing where the combat ships would sail.</p><p>"What do you think? Got any changes you'd like to add?" Johnson was now sporting a big grin.</p><p>Daniel stared long and hard at the scene mapped out before him. After careful consideration at length, he said, "It's fine." Daniel could not admit aloud his reluctance to give any ideas, due to his fear he would fail. That's the first thing a soldier never admits to his allies.</p><p>Before he could reconsider, Lucas slammed his hand on the desk. "It's shit. We'll be slaughtered. Don't you know anything about leading an army?" Lucas had a strong American accent which Daniel couldn't place, but it didn't sound like Tyrone's. The Rs were audible and the vowels were all strangely protracted while the consonants were slurred.</p><p>"Hey," General Ripley said. "Watch your mouth."</p><p>"Be honest. What do you think?" asked Johnson, stroking the edges of his moustache.</p><p>Daniel looked at Lucas whose face was red with anger. "The plan is fine," said Daniel, hanging his head. Lucas pulled away from the table and stormed out of the room without a word.</p><p>"Thank you, Daniel. That will be all," said Johnson. Daniel mustered a snappy salute to the Commander and left the room.</p><p>Outside, Lucas was puffing on a trio of cigarettes while stamping clumsily on a carton.<br/>"You are leading many men to their deaths," Lucas said with pregnant enunciation as Daniel walked past him. Daniel stopped and thought for a moment, his jaw dropping. What would happen if Lucas was right? He could never forgive himself. Daniel sighed and continued towards his squad. Even he couldn't decide if he'd really wanted to respond to Lucas. Every word tasted wrong before it could even rise up his throat like so much bile.</p><p>"You ready, mate?" asked Tom as he, Daniel and the rest of the squad piled into a mancarrying plane. The interior of the great flying machine was far less impressive than its smoothly-rounded exterior, and even from the outside, up close, everything looked nailed together with metal plating in such a way that Daniel could easily imagine each screw unfurling itself. He almost gave a jump as he envisioned the sensations of the aircraft coming apart around him and his friends, casting them all to the horrific winds of the jet stream. The daydream vanished when he noticed Tom patting him on the shoulder.</p><p>"Yes," said Daniel a bit too quickly, as though to hide the fact he had been dazing out. He looked at the plane's interior again. To him, it looked like a large caravan truck. Benches lined the walls like a prison transport. Straps hung from metal bars which functioned but didn't really resemble shelves. The opening to the cockpit looked a bit silly to him, as he kept thinking how much this flying craft resembled a common land vehicle. He knew it was a silly notion from experience alone, and yet he still had to think to himself, is this thing really capable of getting off the ground?</p><p>"Yes, we are finally going to kill these bastards." Irish spun around in the cabin with delight as he spoke with slow deliberation. No one responded, so he continued in his attempt to brighten their confidence. "Oh, come on, guys. War's going to be fun! Cheer up!"</p><p>"Shut up, Irish. Stop acting hard. You're prob'ly gonna shit yourself soon as we touch ground." Logan's accent was coming through as strong as ever.</p><p>Irish laughed. "Bullshit. I bet you a tenner I don't even flinch."</p><p>Logan grabbed Irish's hand all of a sudden and shook it, hard. Like with Lucas, Daniel was reminded of the sensation of his hand being wrenched out of his wrist socket. "Deal," Logan said.</p><p>The doors to the plane shut and were locked from the inside by one of the men. The plane had two big doors in the rear, and the men sat on either side of them. Between them, there was a Humvee taking up space like an eccentric conversation piece for their non-existent coffee table. Daniel leant back and rested his head against the cold metal wall. He swallowed, but a lump in his throat remained. He was starting to feel the cold for the first time in ages, and it was coming from the metal walls. His eyes looked about, searching into space anywhere but at the men he might soon get killed. He wanted to look out a window, but there weren't any he could get a good view out of without getting up out of his seat. He tried to imagine the sight of the clouds rushing by them past the opposite wall of the plane, but they hadn't even gotten off the ground yet. He had the sickly notion of being sent to the principal's office again, now waiting for the next in a long sequence of misfortunes, and he'd forgotten to take with him all the precious notions such as where he was going to sleep, where his next meal was coming from, how he'd even go to the toilet. Mundane things like that that had just now become important as he faced off with the unreal horrors that awaited his arrival with all the lecherous degeneracy of the Rockettes' audience.</p><p>Tyrone pulled out an old electronic music player known as an iPod. Nick leaned forward in his seat as the device caught his eye. "Hold on, here. Where did you get that?" he asked Tyrone.</p><p>"My mama gave it to me," replied Tyrone in a quiet but firm tone as he stuck the ear buds into his ears.</p><p>Tom pulled out the picture of Bella and stared at it. A young man who was sat next to Tom looked at the picture. "Who's that?" he asked.</p><p>Tom looked at the young man. He had a dishevelled appearance. His hair had grown out faster than the other soldiers', and it looked silvery-blonde. He had a hunched kind of stature, and he reminded Tom of an old person. "My girl," Tom told him with a careful tone. His eyes diverted towards Daniel's direction.</p><p>"Well, she is beautiful," said the young man, his lips parting as he stared down his own nose.</p><p>"Thanks," said Tom, who was beginning to feel more than a touch awkward and decided to cut the conversation short. He folded the paper up, but it didn't help. He still needed to hold onto it, and to sneak an occasional peek.</p><p>"My name is Shaun Moulder," said the young man, holding his hand out. He had to shift the position of his gun to do so.</p><p>"Tom." Tom nodded, but felt this would not be a sufficient gesture somehow, and he shook Shaun's hand. Tom studied Shaun. Upon further scrutiny, he decided that Shaun did indeed share some resemblance to an elderly person, but he lacked the wrinkles and creases of world-weariness. He had the build that older people get as if he'd started shrinking. Shaun didn't look a day over sixteen. "How old are you, son?" Tom decided that if he were more proactive in the conversation, he'd be able to cut it off more decisively. He'd had experience with this sort of thing with lonely guys in high school always expecting relationship help from him.</p><p>"Seventeen," Shaun said.</p><p>Tom pursed his lips in an incredulous smile. "Well, what are you doing here? You're only a kid."</p><p>"My dad died alongside James Williams in the attack on Berlin." Shaun seemed to be the only one except for Irish who was eager for combat.</p><p>Tom shook his head, and against his better judgment, decided to patronize the kid. You patronize 'em just right, and they tend to come back, like a stray dog you've fed. "You shouldn't be here. You've got your whole life ahead of you." The words sounded empty as he said them. Corny. With this world-wide siege against his entire species, who really had any sort of a life ahead of himself?</p><p>"With all due respect, Granddad, I have as much right to be here as you." Shaun surprised his listeners with his bit of cheek.</p><p>Tom looked around at his friends, who were all trying to shy away their pert smiles of amusement. "Granddad? I'm only twenty-three!" As soon as he said it, he regretted it. This was the first time in as long as he could remember that he felt compelled to maintain his youth. To cite an age range he'd used to make himself sound older than he'd been at the time had the same effect: He felt older. This was the first time Tom felt genuinely old, and worse, he even felt a bit flattered to say he was only twenty-three. Only twenty-three, and he'd already touched a thought so miserly in its vanity. He knew his own damn age, but this upstart little child had already made him forget for the moment how young he was.</p><p>"Yeah, but twenty-three is the new seventy-four," said Shaun. Tom knew at once what it meant when something was too much to bear. He could scarcely conceive of the level of gall this twerp had to speak to him this way. He could not come up with a rejoinder, because the instance of being teased like this by some baby kid was nothing short of surreal. Tom decided not to encore this remark. He couldn't decide anything else. Instead, he just folded his picture up again and this time placed it into his pocket.</p><p>The plane thrummed with a draconic roar as its engine fired up. The men began to feel slightly sick when the great metallic gut around them lurched backwards and began to lift off up into the sky. The hulking metal colossus was not the only weight they could feel lurching downwards as it fought to push off against the air beneath its wings and rise into the sea of clouds above the earth. They were now on their way to a war which would change their lives forever. They'd been on their way there for three months. Now, more than ever, it was too late to turn back. The route to Berlin was a one-way trip.</p><p>Rainbow Dash walked down before a line of unicorns. "Tonight, my fellow warriors, you will mould history as if it were a big mouldy thing between your hooves." She demonstrated by clasping her front hooves together as if it clutched a ball of clay. "You will fly up and meet with the humans' flying machines, and you will destroy them. I mean truly obliterate them! No excuses! We have equipped each of you with a standard rocket launcher. Doesn't that sound totally awesome? Honestly, I couldn't think of a single thing cooler-sounding than 'rocket launcher'. Every kid should have 'em, and their parents should buy 'em for 'em. Or we could just provide them. It doesn't matter. You've each got enough rockets to take down ten of their weird plane thingies each.</p><p>"Now, these are human weapons, so we must give you human arms. For that, you'll all report to Pinkie Pie for your mandatory mutations." Rainbow Dash smiled seductively as she finished up her lengthy shouting diatribe with all the syrupy conviction of offering a child a poisoned lollipop. Obedient to the pegasus, the unicorns headed for the lab.</p><p>Twilight Sparkle leant over to Rainbow Dash. "Do you think this will work, my queen?" she asked. Nagging doubt comprised the limitations of her tonal diversity.</p><p>"Uh. Yes!" Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. "Yes I do. I'm the Queen of Awesomeness™, and the plan is awesome. Therefore it will work at bringing awesomeness."</p><p>"I'm sure," Twilight said with a sceptical lilt of pedantry in her voice, "but I'm just wondering what's with all the bazookas when conventional methods using pegasi have worked well enough against their aircraft in the past."</p><p>Rainbow Dash face-palmed. Er, that is, she face-hooved. "You see, Twilight, this is why you aren't the Queen of Awesomeness™. Have you seen the weapons technology the humans possess? Loud things that go ratatat-tat! Huge explode-y things! Kaboom! Whoosh! This is why I command my minions to pilfer every piece of equipment they can loot from enemy corpses." Rainbow Dash crouched and began to skulk around behind Twilight in a circle. "Stalking your prey like a covert stealth mission. Tom Clancy's Battlefield: Call of Halo: Black Ops Four Dead. Laser weapons, rocket lawn chairs, C4 plastic explosives." Here, Rainbow leapt at Twilight from behind, but the unicorn merely sidestepped.</p><p>"For being our enemies, humans have some unbelievably badass tools designed solely to make another person dead. They even give guns to their children as toys, for crying out loud! It's like the only thing their race has ever truly aspired at or something." With a grin still plastered on her face, Rainbow Dash marched into the laboratory with her soldiers, ready to gain the hands she would require for battle.</p><p>Two hours of flying had made Irish feel very sick. Well, actually, half an hour was enough to make him sick. Now he was simply not feeling very well at all. He had lost his cocky attitude and was diligently focused on avoiding puking. "No," he chastised himself. He said it aloud. The others just looked at him. "You're stronger than this. You can do this. You can handle anything, Irish. After all, back in Ireland, we had to get by by stuffing dead, raw potatoes into our mouths." He smiled and nodded to Tyrone who avoided his gaze and tried to scoot away as far as he could. "I dinnae like to throw up. I don't play the tennis, and I don't throw up." He tried to turn to the person next to him, who was a doughy, greasy man who was snoring loudly and had spent the past several years giving the finger in Israel where his friends had abandoned him. Trying to think on that didn't tamp down Irish's bile any, somehow. He read the man's rank pin and thought the name read "Ralph Upchuck," but his vision may have been blurring terribly by that point. He gagged a little, but managed to swallow.</p><p>A chipper, high-pitched voiced crackled over the intercom, like a sprightly garden gnome creeping amongst the daffodils to surprise the post delivery. "We are now entering enemy territory," said the pilot through the speakers.</p><p>"Thank God, Jesus," said Irish with delight. That's when the plane was hit by something that made a loud BANG! The entire craft lurched sideways, and then shook as it fought the turbulence to remain aloft. The passengers sprang alive like a particularly impressionable Baptist church choir. Arms and legs flailed. Objects and boxes flew off of the shelves and some of them burst open, littering objects about the tumultuous din of the cabin like numbered balls in a lottery machine, or like a Communist dictator's promise had come true to make manna fall like rain from the heavens. Everybody felt the way Irish had been moaning about for the past hour and a half; as if they had to purge the Technicolor yawn.</p><p>Daniel could hear people yelling, but who was yelling? He tried to shout for everyone to be calm, but like a dream, his voice had no sound. Nick got trashed in the face with the corner of a container. "Get your legs up!" Daniel cried. "Get your legs up!" He guarded himself from any more volatile equipment by burying his face against his knees.</p><p>The plane wrenched itself sharply in another direction, and Daniel realized he was scared. He was scared the whiplash had snapped his neck, but he realized that if that was the case, he would not have been alive to have such a thought. "Aaaaaaahh! Aaaaaaaahh!" That syllable kept carrying out in intervals just like that, and Daniel was no longer certain they were human noises. Was it the wind screaming around them for their very lives?</p><p>"What the fuck is happening!" Logan was shouting. Over and over again, he would shout, "What the fuck is happening!" as if to command some semblance of order from chaos. Then something else hit the plane and part of the wall tore off. The sight was positively surreal. One moment, the wall was there. After the cacophony of an unknown collision, it dipped sideways as if to wave goodbye, then whirled away and out of sight as if to say, "This party fuckin' sucks." The G forces of unstable wind pressures pulled at the men in their seats, throttling them the way a Texan shakes a baby. One soldier, whose restraints had been utterly ripped away by the missing wall, was sucked out of the plane. Daniel looked out through the hole, and the image of the flailing soldier seemed to replay in his mind again and again, in slow motion. His cheeks were rippling from the buffeting forces of wind, his mouth in an oblong shape and his eyes bulging in a most unseemly manner. His arms had been spinning like chopper propellers. But even those persistent details could not compare to the horrors of what he saw next.</p><p>For the moment, the hole was showing a bizarre view of the land, and there were unicorns shooting down allied planes. Daniel realized that side of the plane seemed to be careening towards the ground. Following another abrupt flip of the aircraft that sent his stomach reeling beneath his bladder and up his throat, Daniel saw the land disappear from view to the milky white of the sky around them. His eyes rolled back in his head, but somehow he didn't pass out.</p><p>Logan was the closest to the Humvee. He slung off his seat belt and heaved himself towards the vehicle with his one single window of opportunity to do so. Turbulent G forces pulled at his body, pushing him hard against the wobbling floor, but slowly he hefted one foot after the other to climb towards the Humvee. Once he could grab the vehicle, though he felt for a second that all feeling had left his arms, he could cling to it with a hair's breadth of dear life and carry himself aboard. Somehow, he slid in through the gunner's hatch located at the very top. Next, he strapped himself into the driver's seat. Everyone was now dead.</p><p>Well, everyone except for Tom, Daniel, Nick, Irish, and Shaun, of course. Oh, and Tyrone. Logan reversed the car in between the rows of seats in which the men sat. "Get in!" he yelled, though the bustling gale was too much for him to be heard. Even still, there wasn't a need for him to get the attention of the others. As the plane's hole swept the falling containers and equipment around them, they had all seen Logan's daring rush to purchase rescue for his friends. No way would he leave them all behind, but the car was slowly being pulled out of the plane. Their only survivable escape was being summoned away from them, and the vessel's hull creaked with the same intonation as if the world outside was playing a deadly game of peekaboo. Logan shifted the gears and kicked down hard on the pedals, trying to back the vehicle away from the oncoming drop. "Come on, ya bloody lorry!" The plane felt as if it would shift under the weight of the Humvee.</p><p>The men struggled to unfasten themselves. There was no time to grab anything. Parachuting wasn't an option with all those ponies out there, as Daniel screamed to them until he was hoarse. Riding down in a plummeting chamber of metal seemed to be their best bet, given the circumstances. There was another sound of shredding metal, and the men felt as if the floor was being taken away from under their feet. Shaun was still tied in by his seatbelt, his arms flapping uselessly at himself while his legs started to float up off the ground. Tyrone busted the clasp apart with both hands and helped Shaun get back to his feet. Daniel made it to the Humvee first, but somehow his feet just slipped when mounting the side of the vehicle. He felt Tom's strong hands pushing up hard on his backside, reminding him that not even a fraction of a second could be wasted. He didn't slip inside the vehicle yet, however, and huddled on top to help pull his comrades up.</p><p>"Dammit. Looks like we're gonna be late!" Nick was carrying a woozy Irish to the Humvee behind all the others.</p><p>Irish shouted into his ear, "This really sucks!"</p><p>Nick was stunned that he'd still think of making such a crappy joke at a moment like this.<br/>"You have got to be kidding me!" And yet, as he permitted himself to laugh in disbelief, he felt his feet pushing effortlessly along the floor which was folding away behind him. The men formed a tether of arms, and like a barrel full of monkeys putting themselves away, they all managed to pop themselves inside of the vehicle.</p><p>With a kind of dry flushing sound, the car was ripped out of the plane. The men each shouted out in fright, like a bestial, unison chord of confused peril. As the car spun in mid-air, their arms reached for the interior of the vehicle. Daniel tried to curl himself into a ball. When Irish yelled "shit,” his voice had a peculiar intonation that sounded as if the breath was being sucked right out of him.</p><p>"So now we gon' die!" Tyrone yelled, his huge body looking even larger as he tried to brace his arms and legs against any surface. Shaun was closing his eyes and trying to lean on Tom, as if he could will himself to sleep, so that the whole, terrible ordeal would be over by the time he woke up.</p><p>Nick clung to a surprised Daniel, repeating, "It's gonna be okay, sir! It's gonna be okay!"</p><p>Logan sat petrified at the controls as though forgetting the vehicle didn't work in the air. "Holy Mary, mother of God, mother of Jesus," he said to himself as he gazed out of the windshield. A tornado was swallowing up the plane which no longer looked like a plane. It looked like a metallic Hostess Twinkie that someone had stomped on then kicked at full force down the street. He could see the machine break apart in twain before the funnel cloud obscured it completely. Only then could Logan pull himself away from the sight and curl his body into the foetal position.</p><p>Quiescence overtook the unlucky occupants as the car free-fell a hundred and fifty feet before landing in a forest lagoon with a tremendous splash like a bomb had gone off. Still, the Russian judges would've given it a one. As one, they each were flung against the roof of the Humvee and let out a pained grunt that could never have been simulated in less dire circumstances. Then they grunted again as they all hit the floor soon after. Shaun pointed at the windshield. "Look! We're drowning."</p><p>They may not have been drowning yet, but they all knew they had to scramble for the exit. They opted for the direction they had come in from, but they all tried to bustle out the same portal at once. Tom tried to offer Daniel the lead, but Daniel stopped and barked out, "Go! Go! Go!" to each of his friends in turn, ordering them one at a time through the gunner's hatch. When they first opened it, water gushed inside, pushing the Humvee down even faster. The men struggled against the incoming current to vacate the vehicle and swim to shore. The gurgling of the water around them as they kicked through, completely submerged, was relatively quiet since the madcap din of their plane ride. First the plane engines had whirred so loudly. Then Irish had moaned for a good ninety minutes straight. After that, it was explosion after howl after crunching tear and whistle.</p><p>Now, they all panted for air. "Here," said Irish, handing Logan a soaked tenner.</p><p>"What's this for?" asked Logan, looking so drenched it was hard to read the confusion on his face.</p><p>"You win the bet," Irish explained, waving his hand forward. "I totally did just shit myself."</p><p>The men laughed, thinking it was a joke. Shaun sniffed at the air. "Oh, God, he really has shat himself!" he realized. The squad got up and groaned in disgust. Daniel looked into the forest ahead of them. The screeching of the disintegrating plane was still above them. The gusting of wind was all around. The war had begun, and it stank worse than Irish's fatigues.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter Six</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>When you go out in the woods today. Little house in the jungle. Low pursuit.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The squad wandered for an hour. Shaun's watch had survived their terrible ordeal of wind and water, and to interrupt Irish's incessant singing of the Blackadder theme tune, they would ask him the time with common frequency. Daniel couldn't help but feel glad none of them were alone, but the jungle looked all the same. Half of them couldn't even tell if they were only going around in circles. "Can we take a break?" asked Irish as he waddled along. His body hunched forward like a primate, his arms swinging wildly around at his sides.</p><p>"In a moment," Daniel said.</p><p>Shaun turned to look at Irish. "Why are you waddling?" he asked, his voice indicating he was on the verge of a giggle fit.</p><p>"Because I shat myself," explained Irish in a completely matter-of-fact reply. What was done was done, his voice said. He continued marching as he pulled at the back of his trousers.</p><p>Tom walked a little closer to Daniel than before. "Do you have any idea where we're going?" he asked.</p><p>Daniel shook his head. "None what so ever," he replied most candidly.</p><p>"Okay then. Let's, uh, not tell the others that," advised Tom.</p><p>After a while of marching later, the men could hear the sound of rushing water. It was still quiet, but any of them were eager to break up the monotony of their travel. "Is that water I hear?" asked Irish hopefully.</p><p>"I think it is," said Tyrone. Irish waddled ahead and through some bushes. He came out into a large basin area where a waterfall poured down into it like milk into Rice Krispies. Irish jumped in place and let loose a whoop of excitement. He tore off his clothes, having more of a trouble than he expected to extricate himself from his uniform, and threw his dirty, crapped briefs away.</p><p>He broke out into a full dash towards the lake and was about to jump in when Daniel shouted, "Stop. We need to refill our water canteens before you put your shit-covered ass in the water." Irish moaned and waited, stark naked, with one hand more than enough to cover his baby potatoes, for the men to fill their bottles.</p><p>Tyrone leant down a filled his bottle then looked at Irish. "What are you looking at?" asked Irish.</p><p>"Let's just say your mind needs to tell your dick it ain't a baby no more." Tyrone laughed, and the men laughed with him.</p><p>Irish flipped Tyrone the bird. "Yeah, you would've seen a baby's dick," he muttered darkly.</p><p>Daniel let out a sigh and waved Irish to the water. "Okay, Irish, now you can go in." Irish kicked his legs off the ground and plunged into the lake. He stayed underwater for a while, at first scarcely making a bubble, then splashing about and making rather a ruckus. He started yelling or something, and the crew thought he might've been singing again, until he came running out like one of those Jesus lizards, screaming at the top of his lungs in some kind of warbling ululation. Strange, shiny black spots covered his body, and his friends were highly amused to see that he was covered in leeches.</p><p>"Hey, look! The leech on his dick is bigger than his dick!" laughed Nick. The squad chortled in amusement as Irish ran around in circles, screaming like a mad banshee.</p><p>Logan spat out a blast of water and tossed his canteen to the ground. "There's leeches in the water!"</p><p>This news was not received well. There was much wailing and clamouring and gnashing of teeth. Tyrone's eyes bulged out, and his lips parted as he saw a shiny, black mass welling up within his canteen's wide spout. "Ahh! Dey's leeches in da wa-wa!" he bellowed. Shaun wrinkled his nose, pushed up his nebbish glasses, and effeminately tried to shake all the water and leeches from his canteen. Tom was stepping on his canteen and kicking it across the grass, but it almost went into the lake.</p><p>Two hours had passed since then, and the squad had continued walking on. Irish had gotten rid of his leeches and had put on his clothes with a clean pair of underwear, which he always carried in his bag for good luck. "Damn it, I think I still got leeches on me," he said as he slapped at his neck.</p><p>"Hey maybe you should check your pants. Oh wait, that's your small-ass dick," said Shaun. He showed a toothy grin and pushed his huge glasses back up on his nose. The others laughed and Tyrone touched knuckles with Shaun. This was known as "fist-bumping" or "ringing that bell" and was a sign of respect.</p><p>"Fuck you guys. Seriously, it ain't that small," Irish protested as the Irish are wont to do.</p><p>"Wow, you must have microscopes for eyes if you think that isn't small," Shaun said. The men laughed again.</p><p>"Damn, boy, you are on a roll!" Tyrone shouted.</p><p>"A'right, that's enough from Paul and Barry Chuckle. So, where do you think we're headed?" asked Tom. Tom and Daniel walked at the front of the squad.</p><p>"Like I said, I don't know," replied Daniel. "How would I have a clue? I mean, how many jungles could be between Moscow and Berlin?"</p><p>Through the trees ahead, they came upon a clearing with a small, two-floor log house erected smack dab in the middle. The construction might have appeared bucolic, but the lumbering, arching trees with their malevolent, leafy fronds rendered the rustic setting into a persecuted refuge. The men all crouched down in a small circle as instructed by Daniel. "Okay, listen up: We don't know if hostiles are here, so we are going to flank around. Tom and I will take the front. Logan and Shaun, you take the back. Nick and Tyrone, go down into the basement through the outside doors." Daniel kept his voice to a low whisper just to be on the safe side, even though they remained just behind the outskirts of the clearing.</p><p>The men nodded in acknowledgement of Daniel's plan. "What about me?" asked Irish.</p><p>"You stay here. They'll smell you from a mile away," said Daniel.</p><p>Irish remained silent, and the men cleared off around to their flanking positions. Tom and Daniel stalked in silence towards the front door, and Daniel held up three fingers. He put each down in turn, counting off the seconds. Tom grabbed the front door handle and turned it. He pushed gently against the door, which slowly swung open, giving off a mournful creaking sound. Daniel crept in first, hunching low to the floor with his weapon drawn. In front of him was a set of stairs heading to the upper floor, to his left was a living room sort of area and to his right was a door which led down to the basement. Daniel pointed to the stairs, signifying for Tom to ascend. Tom nodded, but took his time walking up the stairs so that his boots wouldn't make a sound on their thick, oaken steps. Expecting that Nick and Tyrone would have the basement covered, Daniel crept into the living room.</p><p>The living room was rather plain-looking and almost bare in terms of decor. Its rudimentary accoutrements included an old wooden table with two wooden chairs, a stone fireplace, and two worn out leather chairs next to an old TV and a radio. The floor was covered with a threadbare carpet with a diamond-shaped pattern on it and frayed edges. Dust filtered through the light that poured in through the curtain-less windows. At the opposite end of the room from him was a door leading into the kitchen through which he could spot a door leading from the kitchen to the back garden. The back door handle turned, and Daniel watched as Logan entered the building, followed by Shaun. Daniel nodded to them and they split off to the left.</p><p>Daniel returned back into the foyer and went up the stairs to find Tom. When he reached the top of the stairs, he immediately saw two rooms. One had the door open, and Daniel could clearly see it was a trophy room, due to the amount of animal heads which hung off of the wall. So many animal heads. The decollated visages of deer, bears, a puma, and even animals as small as rabbits practically obscured the whole wall, so that he wondered why some of the specimens did not decorate the living room down below. Their mouths had been posed to hang open as if caught in wordless utterances, and their eyes all had glossy, creepy stares to them. Daniel examined the second room and found Tom by the door.</p><p>Tom reached down and took his colt .45 from his holster which was worn on the side of his right leg. He nodded to Daniel and cautiously nudged opened the door. It gave a little creak. It was responded to from a sudden blast. Something came through the door so fast Tom couldn't identify it until it had already missed his face. Tom fell backwards, shooting holes in the door the entire way until he landed on his posterior. By this point, the rest of the squad were running upstairs to take up positions around Daniel. They all began to fire when Daniel heard the voice shouting from inside the room, sounding quite a bit as if it were from a gangster film. "Die, ya pony scum! You won't take us alive!"</p><p>"Hold your fire!" He bellowed for several seconds to try and be heard over the din of murderous flying metal before the squad stopped. The silence that followed was the heaviest he had ever heard in his entire life. It outweighed a rainy day spent waiting in the principal's office. It outweighed the time he forgot his line in a school play. He even thought it outweighed the silence from before his very birth. Were the people inside waiting for a sense of calm to strike again or had they been killed by the storm of bullets Daniel's squad had hastily unleashed?</p><p>No matter the cost, this reprieve was the chance to communicate. "We are with the human resistance. Do not shoot! We will not hurt you."</p><p>The door eventually swung open. A second or two later, an old man with a short, shaggy white beard stepped out, holding a double-barrelled shotgun. He had two magnums strapped to his belt. An old lady holding a knife stepped out just behind him, her eyes as big as dinner plates. Tom got up off the floor and slowly holstered his weapon. At this, the old man smiled. His entire demeanour had turned on a dime, now sounding more grandfatherly rather than prepared to fight to the last breath of his scared little mind. "You look hungry," he said.</p><p>Meanwhile, back at the lagoon, Twilight had taken out a squad looking for Daniel. She knew Daniel was alive, because she had not yet smelt his blood on the air. Twilight ordered her mares to stop, and then she walked over to Irish's dirty underwear which lay on the floor. She picked them up and gave them a hearty whiff. She sighed, and then sniffed them again, even deeper this time. "They have gone that way," said Twilight, pointing forward. Her ear flicked and her attention turned inward as a voice crackled in over her headset.</p><p>"Twilight, I need you back at base, eh," Rainbow Dash whined.</p><p>"But Queen, I'm currently closing in on the human leader's position just about now," explained Twilight in a chipper and placating tone.</p><p>"Well get Fluttershy to take the squad, eh. I need you here." Rainbow Dash was sounding increasingly insistent.</p><p>Twilight let out a stress sigh and agreed to return, but first she turned to a winged yellow Pegasus with a long, wavy pink mane and tail. "Fluttershy, take the squad north and kill every human you find. That's something within your jurisdiction and that you'd normally do, right?"</p><p>"Oh! Oh, um. Oh-okay, my liege. If you're perfectly sure that's what you want me to do," said Fluttershy. Compliant as ever, she and the squad moved on, heading off in the direction of the cabin at a tactical pace. Rushing wasn't quite an option when navigating such large numbers through the ensnaring jungle terrain, but their numbers would have to do. Besides, it was ever so lovely a day, and the cabin wasn't going anywhere.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter Seven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Marching on their stomach. Surrounded. First Blood.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The squad was getting antsy to move, as they sat on the living room floor, refuelling themselves on the dinner that Deidre and Frank, the kindly old couple, had made for them.</p><p>"This is good grub.” Irish noisily scarfed down the dinner of homemade McDonald’s.<br/>“Got any Duff beer to go with it?” He received a swat from Nick for his rudeness. Irish returned a befuddled look, then asked, “Hey, can I use your toilet?"</p><p>"Please do. It's outside," said Frank, stroking his bushy white beard. Irish nodded, set his greasy plate on the floor, and walked outside to the outhouse while wiping crumbs off of his grubby fingers in futility. He went in, closed the door and latched it. He then looked down. The entire so-called "toilet" was little more than a hole dug into dark, brown earth with a short, wooden barrel underneath. Irish cringed as he remembered his childhood, then pulled his pants down and squatted over the hole. He really ought to have reported his constant digestive issues to the medical department back during training, but suffice it to say, Irish just wasn't a very practical sort of guy. Bored with his sluggard bowel movements, he opened his bag and pulled out an old comic he'd found at a Russian bootleg auction. He began to read it aloud to himself as he took his shit, even doing all the voices of the characters and the sound effects. "You're one to talk! You have your arm drills; you only need a pump to finally dig the dug!"</p><p>Back inside the house, Deidre was bringing in a plate full of little snack-y Eccles cakes for the men.</p><p>"Thank you for your hospitality," said Daniel. He measured each of the Eccles cakes and divided them so that each person got the same exact amount, and as uniform a shape as he could hope for. He also took a sip of ale given to him by Frank, and eyed his compatriots with a silent indication they should make sure they drank the same measure as he did.</p><p>"It's no problem," croaked Deidre.</p><p>"It's the least we can do for our freedom fighters," Frank said in his cordial growl of a voice. Daniel smiled and nodded graciously. He hadn't seen this type of hospitality since before the war. It came as something of a relief.</p><p>"Do you have a radio?" asked Logan, his voice rising to an incredulous pitch. "One that calls out, I mean."</p><p>"Yes, it's over there." Frank pointed to the top of the TV at the spot where Logan had been looking.</p><p>"Can we use it to call in some EVAC?" asked Daniel.</p><p>"Yeah, of course you can." Frank looked at Daniel wearily and gestured toward the radio again. He scratched his head. "If ya know the number, anyway. Ain't exactly on the freeway out here."</p><p>"So, um. You and your wife live out here just to hide from the Equestrians?" Daniel asked.</p><p>Frank looked toward his wife and patted her on the back of the hand. She grinned inanely at him, then the squad. "Yes, sir. Just me and my tender white rabbit, Deidre, here." He kissed her on the hand with his tongue before she returned to the kitchen. "In the early seventies, my wife and I eloped in Switzerland from England, back when I was still a marriage guidance counsellor. We had a nice little apartment in Wankdorf. Then those consarn blasted ponies started comin' through the sky, and we had to flee the country. We were smart. We were early. But Deidre and I always longed for a simpler life, a quaint little home surrounded by nature. And here we are. Our little slice of the dream life. She and I are too old to fight in wars, but we gotta defend our home now from smoochers and now them dag-blasted things, don't we?" He picked up his shotgun and happily shook it with a wheezy laugh. He set it down again and grabbed at that arm with his other.</p><p>Moments later, Deidre emerged, holding a tray full of bear meat that she had diced into little cookie-sized hunks and moulded so that they had happy little bear faces on them. She offered them out to the men while Logan muddled about with the radio. Tyrone ate both his and Irish's portions in one bite each, and Nick wrapped half of his up in a napkin. Daniel nibbled at his own as though he weren't really hungry, and Tom shot him a bewildered stare while offering some of his own. Daniel declined politely and wondered why he didn't seem to taste anything. Oh, there was flavour alright, but he couldn't say it really entered him. The taste was greasy and unsanitary, and it clung to his tongue in a foul and exotic way different from any meat of animals that had been bred and raised for countless generations by humans for the purpose of consumption. Shaun wrinkled his nose, breathing heavily through his mouth, and asked if the bear meat contained any nuts.</p><p>Over by the radio, Logan was saying, "Yes," and "Okay, I got it." He set down the radio and paused for a moment with his back turned to the others. When he did face them, he said, "Alright, gents. They're sending us an EVAC in a small town not too far from here."</p><p>"You mean Monsoon," said Frank. His mouth straightened into a taut line and he nodded so vigorously that he shook himself in his chair.</p><p>"That sounds about right," Logan said, hitching his thumbs in his pants.</p><p>"Don't worry. I'll take you boys there," said Frank.</p><p>"Thanks. That will be great," said Daniel. He glanced at a broken clock on the wall, the sort that was shaped like a cat and its eyes and tail would swing back and forth. He heard a soft staccato noise too quiet to pinpoint. This was followed by three swift punctures through the glass window. Three bullets struck Deirdre in her back, tearing minute holes in her sweater. Her fat bosom jiggled as she tipped forward like a ballet dancer, and she fell to the ground, stone dead. Blood was already soaking through her cardigan as Frank shouted out her name and dived down to her body. Everybody else had dove down to the floor as more bullets pelted the cabin from all angles.</p><p>They could hear the wood being thudded incessantly, and more windows shattered like pouring rain. The ponies were attacking! It seemed a reasonable assumption. Daniel wriggled flat on his belly over to the solid oak table, and his men helped flip it onto its side so they could hide behind it.</p><p>Outside in the outhouse, Irish still crouched over the "toilet". "No salt on da freedom fries!" he read. He dropped his comic book as bullets flew through the outhouse walls, aerating it like a thimble in less than a second. Irish tried to dive to the ground, but in the cramped little cubicle, the best he could do was slump onto his side in a ball. He overturned the barrel and his legs sank into the faeces-filled ditch. Something told him he would live to regret this. A grenade thudded next to the outhouse, and after a second, it blew up, the force alone collapsing the outhouse down on the ground. Shrapnel dug into Irish's hip and elbow like a bird coming home to roost, but by some miracle, the reinforced, lacquered wood ate most of the metallic chunks. The outhouse itself landed on its door, trapping Irish inside. Apparently Frank had had one too many windy nights, because the outhouse had been given a firm foundation in the ground. Therefore, the earth, hole and all, was uprooted with the battered outhouse, and Irish was stuck within. He put his hands over his head as excrement oozed across his shins.</p><p>Inside the house, bullets were flying in just about any direction one could reasonably imagine. They crisscrossed through doorways and windows and through previous bullet holes. They had the odd inclination of targeting Frank and the late Deidre’s decor, busting a hole right in the middle of the cat clock's forehead, shooting out the legs of the chairs, and even obliterating every last shard of a mock Ming vase that earlier projectiles had shattered. "What the hell is the plan?" Tom shouted to Daniel.</p><p>Daniel froze, but looked around. Frank was flopped on his side, weeping manly tears into his beard beside Deidre’s bullet-riddled corpse. His face had become lumpy and bright red, almost fluorescent. Daniel felt sadness and responsibility; if he hadn't led the squad here, Deidre might still be alive. His men wouldn't have been stuck in the house surrounded by ponies. He blamed himself. They'd only been following him. To meet the grave with a loaded clip like this was seriously uncool.</p><p>"Daniel, what do we do?" shouted Tom once again.</p><p>"Fuck it; he's stunned," Logan said. He snapped into decision mode. "Tom, Tyrone, you go upstairs! Tom, I want you to sniper the enemies, and Tyrone, you give him cover fire. Nick, you stay here and fire out the windows. Don't let 'em guess which one yer at! Shaun, you take the back of the house. I'll keep the pair of yer arses covered. Now go!" Logan took control of the squad, and as he unstrapped and readied his weapon, he spoke in haste to Daniel. "Sorry about that, sir, but we can't do without yer leadership, even for a second."</p><p>Daniel remained silent. Nick popped out of cover and began to shoot at the enemy. He hit a few before he already needed to reload. Using an M1 grand and high ammo captivity wasn't exactly in his favour. Shaun fired his grease gun out the back door, grimacing all the while and occasionally pushing up his glasses. The ponies were coming from every direction. Logan did as he said and kept striding back and forth between Shaun's and Nick's position to offer them backup. He fired a mag of his Thompson and then hustled to the opposite end of the house. Tom and Tyrone dove into the trophy room to avoid fire, although the upstairs was not so heavily besieged. Tom pulled his Springfield with a sniper scope off of his back. He smashed the rest of the broken window with the nozzle of his weapon and looked out. He spotted one colourful pony holding a heavy MG. Tom fired and took the pony's head off with a comical splurt. Blood fountained from the holes of its neck, and its body plopped down onto its rear end like a clumsy puppy. Tyrone fired out from the other window, hitting a few of the enemies as he did.</p><p>Fluttershy picked up the MG and fired at the house. The MG seemed to tear through every wall in the building. The entire cabin shook, and the air filled with dust. The humans had been knocked off balance, and each one had to brace themselves against the shuddering walls. For the time being, even the ponies had apparently ceased their assault. A voice coughed into a loudspeaker, the amplification of its volume evident by the echo.</p><p>"Um, hello? Excuse me? Can you all hear me now?" A very timid, feminine voice rang out. "I just wanted to say that, um, I'm really, terribly sorry that things have come to this. And, uh, I really hope you can forgive me, although probably not. I'd understand if you couldn't. It's just, well, you know. But I totally don't hold it against you all. But really, you definitely shouldn't have eaten Mr. Bear. Now, I think that it's only perfectly fair you all feed the other animals yourselves now. Um, with yourselves, that is. Pretty please? Oh, thank you all so, so much! Okay, you can all start shooting again now, since I know you want to so much. I mean, you could surrender, but, well. Would you? Really?"</p><p>Logan grabbed a hold of Frank. "Look, I'm sorry about your wife, but we need to get to the town." Logan had to whisper under the momentary lull of silence during Fluttershy's psychological warfare. Frank looked at him like a trucker whose dirty hat had just flown out of the cabin window on the interstate.</p><p>"In the cellar, there is a map and a compass. Bring 'em to me" replied Frank once he stopped sniffling.</p><p>Logan nodded. The gunfire started up again on both sides. "Hey Shaun!" shouted Logan.</p><p>Shaun turned around and went prone as he crawled towards Logan. "Yes? What can I do you for?" he asked.</p><p>"Go down into the basement, and find me a map and a compass," ordered Logan. Shaun nodded and made a run for the basement door.</p><p>Outside of the house, Fluttershy was addressing a pony named Red Mist that had been biochemically altered by Pinkie Pie. His coat of fur was bright, catsup red, and his mane and tail were both a pale, light red. He had a horn on his head and stood at an even seven feet tall. He had been given human arms like every other pony, but his were as strong as two hulking monoliths, bulging with lumpy, varicose musculature. "Get in there and destroy them," ordered Fluttershy.<br/>"Um, you know. If it's alright with you." She offered him a meek grin and rubbed one front hoof against the other.</p><p>Red Mist nodded in obeisance, and charged for the hatchway located on the outside of the house. These were the doors that led down into the basement. Tom was looking down his scope when he caught sight of the dashing red anthropomorphic unicorn. "Holy shit," he muttered. Tyrone looked over and repeated Tom's words. Tom fired, and the bulled went straight through Red Mist's shoulder. The equine beast was utterly unfazed. Inconceivable though it was, he didn't even seem to flinch. His mighty hooves kept kicking into the earth, rallying himself forward in a haunting, majestic charge. His legs were still the gargantuan, muscular legs of a horse, and he hoisted one up, preparing to obliterate the hatch doors inward.</p><p>Down in the basement, Shaun was sorting aimlessly through many papers and camping gear strewn about on a table. He couldn't find anything that remotely resembled a map, save for a few children’s restaurant placemats with mazes on them that had been filled out incorrectly. "If I was a map, where would I be? Not in a fucking war, that's for sure," he joked to himself. Evidently, he had not seen the battle plans which Daniel had been asked for his input on. Shaun clucked his tongue and, feeling his hope draining away like the last of the matzo broth, he lifted up one of the children's disposable placemats.</p><p>Could it really be? The other side displayed a road map of the region, complete with topographical data. A little star had been drawn in pen somewhere in the jungle, and there was a town situated not too far away. He gave a sigh of relief that was followed by the crashing and splintering of wood. Red Mist came tromping down the stairs from outside, his hulking, snorting physique having to squeeze its way through the narrow opening in the wall to hustle through the interior. Shaun panicked. He fumbled with his weapon as he tried to back away, banging his hip painfully against the table. He fired his gun as soon as he could, and very nearly shot himself in the foot. The immediate slew of bullets missed shamefully, but the glaring red unicorn was a rather easy target given his size and contrasting colour. Even still, the bullets only ricocheted off of the pony's chiselled chest or sank without ceremony into his edges. "That's not fair!" Shaun squealed. "It's not like you're wearing armour!"</p><p>Red Mist swung both of his gigantic arms into Shaun, his hands clenched into a collective fist, and sent him flying off of his boots and into a wall. Shaun groaned in pain as he collided and slid down into a heap, his greasy hair leaving a trail on the cement. He could still feel reverberations from the back of his aching skull, and he thought he could smell the coppery scent of blood. Red Mist stomped towards him, tossing the heavy table aside with one stroke from his arm. Shaun pulled put his Colt .45 and fired at the beast, but once again, the bullets had no effect. He couldn't believe it. Three months training in firearms, and he was going to be bludgeoned to death? A hope of salvation finally emerged in the form of Tom and Tyrone charging down the stairs, each turned sideways so they could descend side by side. Tyrone pulled out his knife and jumped onto the beast's back, just managing to wrap his free arm around its burly neck. Tom pulled out his knife as well and charged into the beast's stomach from the side. Tyrone swept his blade clumsily at the beast's neck while Tom stabbed furiously at its plush torso. Red Mist kicked a hoof sideways into Tom's gut, knocking him away without effort, and then pulled Tyrone off of his back and over his head, dashing him against the low ceiling. He threw Tyrone's husky frame straight into a wooden support beam with enough force to bend it crooked like a lobbyist. Shaun rolled, then shuffled himself to his feet and aimed his Colt at the beast's head. His hand shook terribly, but he fired and struck Red Mist right in the left eye. Red Mist wailed in pain, clasping a hand over the smoking crater in his face that now oozed mucus and blood, and rounded on Shaun. As he stomped towards him again, Shaun ducked and rolled in between Red Mist's legs, slapping himself on the unicorn's venous protrusions.</p><p>Red Mist let out a wholly un-equine roar of anger. Tom pulled out a grenade, dancing back towards the stairs, and hurled it at the beast. True, this was the last idea in the world that could be smart, using an explosive in confined quarters such as this. Mistakes are an inevitability of war. The grenade bounced off of Red Mist and rolled back near the fractured post. Tyrone took one boggle-eyed look at it, got up, and scrambled to the other end of the basement where Shaun had gathered with Tom. The three of them fought to squeeze into the stairwell, hoping the thin stone walls would protect them, and that little shrapnel would ricochet and follow them up the steps.</p><p>The grenade exploded, naturally collapsing the pillar. This brought a good section of the kitchen down on Red Mist, thundering an entire tile floor, a wooden table, and dozens of implements on top of the unicorn. The stove and dishwasher fell away from the walls, dislodging themselves from their couplings and unplugging. They slid down the incline into the gaping hole that widened like a yawning chasm, burying the Equestrian under structural debris. Dishes clattered and crashed like the reins of death from up above as clouds of dust enveloped the three huddling humans. Even the kitchen sink had apparently been wrenched away from the wall, collapsing with a portion of its counter atop the mound of collateral damage that now ramped its way up towards the ground floor.</p><p>Shaun slung his grease gun onto his shoulder and looked at the others, pushing his glasses back up on his nose. They were utterly caked in filth. The three of them ran up the ramp and into the kitchen, which was virtually just a box of shaken walls lipped by decimated cabinets. "It's about time!" shouted Logan as Shaun handed over the map and compass. Logan glanced at the aftermath of what had happened to the kitchen, but saw no need to remark on it. This cabin had become a war zone. Collateral damage was a symptom, even a necessity to prove their struggle had cost something.</p><p>After scanning the map himself, he ran over to Frank, who then wrote down instructions on the side of the map and drew a route. "Follow that route, and you'll find the town," said Frank.<br/>"You shouldn't miss it." Then he thrust a jangly set of car keys into Logan's hand. "Take my truck. It's a little ways out back." Logan thanked him.</p><p>All this time, Daniel was still sitting behind the living room table without having budged an inch. The smell of blood and gunpowder filled his nostrils and clung to his taste buds in sour, metallic displeasure. It had been just like his brother told him it would be, the first time he went into battle. The thought of what happened to his brother made Daniel angry for the first time since James's death. It was a blind anger, directed at every single thought that had crossed his mind. He was angry at the ponies for killing his brother. Somehow, he just couldn't be angry at the fact that they'd enslaved the vast majority of the human race. In spite of their conquest, he'd lived a relatively sheltered life in Russia, drinking with his friends and playing at their war training. But he was also angry at James for dying. He was angry at the military for making him the head of the war, despite the fact that three months ago he'd never even shot a gun before, and that he never demonstrated even an inkling of leadership skills before he'd had the responsibility thrust upon him. He was angry at Sergeant Foresight for getting angry at him. He was angry at the plane's pilot for having gotten the plane lost in the enemy attack. He was angry at Deidre for having gotten killed as an indirect result of his own foolish decisions. He was angry at his father for sending him here to die, and he was angry at his mother for having birthed him. He was angry at Russia for being cold and inhospitable, and he was angry at America for having failed in their peaceful negotiations and he was angry at the Middle East for their religious onslaught that had protracted the conflict through Europe. He was angry at all the other countries which had fallen.</p><p>He was angry at his friends, too, because he suspected they must have been angry with him, as he was, for just sitting here in the heat of their very first battle. He was angry at Irish for always making stupid jokes and for his faecal incontinence. He was angry at Logan for stealing his command from him at the first opportunity. He was angry at Tom for constantly being drunk and always ogling his girlfriend's photograph. He was angry at Nick for always acting like a straight-backed, sycophantic douchebag. He was angry at Tyrone for whatever was left over, because Tyrone hadn't really done anything of note to support him. He was angry at the whole lot of them for this being their first battle as his squad, and none of them were chickening out the way he was. And that's when he stopped being angry.</p><p>This was their first battle, too. Sure, Logan had served in Iraq, and Tyrone had been in some kind of street gang he wasn't too sure on the details of. Maybe Nick, too, had seen some battles. He was pretty sure Shaun (was that his name?) was as newbie as he and Tom were. Hell, maybe that's why Irish kept shitting himself. Nerves. He was just coping with the rigors of casual homicide in his own way. Trying to keep cheerful with his corny jests. And Logan had said sorry. Why was that? Did he still believe in Daniel, even if he'd reacted so accordingly to him losing his cool? And Nick's pompous politesse was genuine. He hadn't been trying to show off, just show the due respect the others were owed as fellow soldiers. And Tyrone was simply the strong, silent type, who never wasted words unless there was some important truth for the preaching. And he could never hate Tom, his closest friend. Tom, who, for the majority of occasions, had been the one to buy the drinks. Tom, who had helped set Daniel up with Laura. He just couldn't be angry at any of them.</p><p>Daniel cocked his gun and stood up. The squad looked amazed, or worried. Logan even asked, "You alright, mate?"</p><p>Feeling something like the T-1000, Daniel fired an entire mag out the window. He struck three ponies and hit Fluttershy in the shoulder. Fluttershy let out an "Oh!" of pain and dropped onto the ground. "I'm sorry. I got in the way," she was saying, her face totally obscured by her voluminous pink mane. "My bad."</p><p>Daniel ducked behind what remained of the wall to reload his weapon. Nick patted him on the shoulder. "Glad you could join us," he said, smiling. Daniel and Nick crawled over to Logan, Shaun, Tom, and Tyrone.</p><p>"What's the plan then?" asked Daniel.</p><p>"We are going to take Frank's truck and go to Monsoon," Logan replied.</p><p>"Okay. Let's go," said Daniel.</p><p>"Wait, where's Irish?" asked Tyrone.</p><p>"Didn't he go to take a shit about an hour ago or so?" Tom asked. The squad looked out the window at the overturned outhouse. Brandishing a rocket launcher, a pony jumped onto the side of the outhouse and aimed it at the cabin. The men froze, each one feeling an icy lump well in their respective throat. A noisy eruption of staccato noise ripped open a gory wound in the pony's underbelly, causing the equine monster to dance around like a flailing autistic man-child. It lost its balance and toppled behind the felled structure and did not move again. When it dropped its weapon, the rocket whizzed off and twirled about in the air, but fired upon its own allies, sending at least twelve of them through the air with fatal screams. Before the men could let out a sigh of relief, they peered at the upturned outhouse with bated breath.</p><p>From inside the outhouse, Irish had loaded up his MG42, aimed it to where he'd heard the clopping of the pony's hooves above him, and fired. "I take it that's Irish," said Nick.</p><p>"That slippery son of a bitch!" Tyrone laughed.</p><p>"Right. Come on, men! We got to get the truck and get Irish, and then we're outta here," said Logan.</p><p>"Easier said than done," said Tyrone. His sarcasm was not lost on the others.</p><p>"Nah. Daniel seems to 'ave shot their commanding officer. Look out the window; they're carrying her away and pulling back. And they've suffered from major casualties." Logan looked down at Deidre’s prone body.</p><p>Tyrone had moved to the opposite end of the building. "Yeah, but it's lookin' like they've got bigger numbers marchin' this way. See that spot 'tween the trees, way back there?"</p><p>There was clearly no time to lose worrying. Logan dashed out the front towards the truck with the men providing cover fire as they followed. His observations had rung true, however; they met very little opposition as the pony forces temporarily withdrew. Frank stayed by his wife. "Aren't you coming?" asked Daniel.</p><p>"No, son. I want to stay here with my wife. Now get going." Frank's raspy voice was a choked whisper. Daniel thought he understood why the man would want to stay, and could not bring himself to protest. The ponies would be here soon and leave no survivors, and Deidre would be devoured.</p><p>Daniel followed his squad out as they all piled into the car, surprised at how he was able to join them, unharmed. Logan was behind the wheel, while Tom sat next to him in the passenger seat. Daniel joined the rest of the squad in the back of the truck. They drove around to the outhouse and beeped the horn. Irish heard their signal and kicked his way through the wall of the outhouse. He pulled himself out like a vampire rising from his coffin, except that he was covered in soupy faecal matter. Throwing his bag into the back of the truck, he joined the men.</p><p>"Damn it, Irish, you shat yourself again" Shaun griped. He shook his head and put his still-filthy spectacles back onto his nose.</p><p>"Fuck you," shouted Irish, who was more annoyed than ever before, and yet smiling with relief that the battle had been won. Logan drove off away from the remaining ponies who gave way, although they did manage to run over one of them. As Daniel gazed back at the cabin, riddled with bullets, smoking, and now sagging at a definite angle in the ground, he could not deny that, when all was said and done, the victory had been theirs.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter Eight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Monsoon. Ranking officer. Negotiations.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Where are we?" Irish moaned. The question was on everyone's mind.</p><p>"I don't know. I think we took a wrong turn," replied Logan.</p><p>"For fuck's sake, how hard is it to follow a map?" Irish was being a tad too honest about how annoyed he was, but since he'd spent the better part of the day stewing in his own excrement, an argument could be made in his favour.</p><p>"Er, I don't know. How hard is it for you to not shit yourself?" replied Logan. The squad laughed like a band of automated chipmunks. Irish stopped speaking because he knew no matter what he said, he would still be laughed at. He wondered to himself by what principle this torment continued to occur.</p><p>"Wait, we are going the right way. Turn left here." Tom had the greasy map unfolded before himself. Logan did turn left, but all they saw was more trees.</p><p>"Well, where is it then?" Logan jerked the wheel around as he fought with the uneven terrain. The forest wasn't exactly a paved environment, but evidently Frank and Deidre had enjoyed many rambling drives while she was still alive.</p><p>"Keep going forward," said Tom.</p><p>Logan would have liked nothing better than to comply, but just then, the car sputtered and shut down. "Fuck!" He slammed his palms against the steering wheel.</p><p>"What's the matter?" asked Daniel. "Is it just out of gas, or..?"</p><p>"The car's out of gas," Logan confirmed with a sigh.</p><p>"Alright, guys. Out of the car. We're continuing on foot," Daniel ordered. The men groaned and hoisted themselves out of the truck. Tom handed the map to Daniel who took the lead.</p><p>After ten minutes of walking, Irish broke the silence. "How far are we?" he groaned.</p><p>"Not far." Daniel pulled back a bush. Right there in front of them was a long bridge leading to the city. Below the bridge was a forty-foot drop into a rocky lake, and strewn amidst its jagged stones were broken cars and buses. Daniel let out a gulp. In the driver's seat of a school bus, which had a slew of offensive graffiti along its exterior, a skeleton was leaning out of the window, wearing some sunshades and showing off his middle finger. At the end of the bridge was a huge gate blocking the entrance to the city. At either side of the gate were watch towers with heavy MG's in each one.</p><p>"We are here." Daniel's announcement may have been a bit pre-emptive. "Step carefully." The men began their crossing with no shortening of caution. Shaun was about to take another step when Tyrone stopped him. Shaun's foot hovered over a pressure mine. Tyrone slowly pulled Shaun back, and Shaun thanked Tyrone with a silent nod, as if frightened the mine might hear them. The squad broke their lines to creep around the nasty-looking circular devices planted flatly along the bridge. What sort of a devious defence was this? Daniel wondered how often Frank needed to come into town. The old man hadn't looked that spry, and the threat alone of these anticipatory explosives made his knees wobble and pitch. Each of the men tried to still their breath, as if even exhaling might set off the mines.</p><p>"Shit. There're more on the underside," Nick said. "Don't step in between the drill bits." He'd spotted a blinking red LED in between a couple of the creaking boards. Nobody would've blamed Irish if he'd wet himself now. The group spread out towards the edges of the bridge where the mines were not so frequent. They had to squeeze themselves against the barriers, but traversing the margins was worth it to avoid the risk of finding out how destructive one of those buggers was. For a time, all any of them could hear was the unnerving creaking of the bridge's wooden planks beneath their boots, and they wondered if another threat factor would be the supports collapsing out from under them.</p><p>Tom was right behind Daniel, who was still at the front, leading the squad across the bridge. Tom looked down and noticed a red dot on his chest. He leaned in to Daniel. "Er, Daniel? I got something to tell you, and yer not gonna like it," he whispered.</p><p>Daniel noticed the red dot, then turned frantically towards the gate and called out. "Wait, we are with the resistance!" His men stopped. In the gripping second or two that followed, he blinked his eyes, and felt a bead of sweat rivulet down his temple. The red dot disappeared, and the gates opened.</p><p>A man holding a sniper rifle stepped out. "My name is Sam Fisher. I run this town now. State your business," he shouted from his position.</p><p>"I'm Daniel, and this is my squad. We are here because our EVAC is arriving here."</p><p>A brief silence followed. "Okay. Come in. We have a few more of you resistance guys," Sam said. The squad moved carefully, avoiding the mines until they reached the city. The gates closed behind them. Once they were finally within city limits, Sam began pointing out various locations as he explained the situation to them. "The EVAC will arrive tomorrow at nine PM, so until then, please feel welcome to our food, our women, and a room for the night." As the crew was introduced to Monsoon's sparse infrastructure, they noted how much the town resembled an ancient frontier town from the American Midwest. Sure, the streets were paved, but they were dusty and cracked, and the buildings appeared to have been patched up in more than a few places with spare wood. More wood was used for archaic-looking signage that indicated how some of the surviving buildings had been repurposed. If not for all the people milling about, the place would be a picturesque ghost town. Another sight Daniel couldn't help but notice was a small yard full of dead horses all piled on their sides. Not Equestrians, but ordinary Earth horses and ponies, all shot and rotting in a heap together. "We're not the sort of town that takes chances," Sam told them.</p><p>"Alright. Sounds like my kinda place, eh?" Nick playfully elbowed Tyrone.</p><p>"Thank you," Daniel said.</p><p>"Wait. Nine PM tomorrow? The ponies will have caught up by then," said Irish.</p><p>"Relax, friend. We've got a good fortress here. Now please go choose a room and get yourself cleaned up," said Sam, leaning over forward to implore him. Irish thanked him and took off to do just that.</p><p>"Hey where's the bar I could use with a drink?" asked Nick. Tom nodded in emphatic agreement.</p><p>"Ah, right this way." Tapping the side of his nose in a knowing gesture, Sam led the squad straight to the bar. When the men walked inside, they found it was much livelier than the pub back home.</p><p>"Drink all you want, men! It's on the house," said Sam, waving his arms invitingly. The men mumbled their obligatory thanks to him and found a table large enough to seat their party.</p><p>"I'll get the drinks in," said Logan. "I'm bloody parched."</p><p>Tom took this opportunity to look at his picture of Bella. The picture made him feel sad. The sigh he let loose just drifted out of him, and he thought it carried all of his hopes with him. He wondered if he would ever see that beautiful face again, or if he would ever hear her cute laugh, or look into those big, pretty blue eyes, or get to say "I love you" to her again. He mouthed the words, his fingers touching at the image of her face. The men were all pretty quiet, but they rubbernecked as they sat around the table and waited until Logan brought over a tray of beer.</p><p>"Oy, gents! Did you see the knockers on the bar maid?" Logan grinned toothily, turning his head back over his shoulder at the woman he was objectifying. She caught his glance and smiled at him. "Oh yeah. She wants me." Logan got up from the table with his beer and approached her.</p><p>"Good job today, guys, and thanks for bearing with me," said Daniel. "Keep it up, there may be a Christmas bonus in it for us this year."</p><p>"No problem, dawg. Now you know what it's like, you won't freeze up." Tyrone raised his glass. "A toast to whatever lies ahead." The men raised their glasses and banged them together, before each took a mouthful of beer. Tom put his picture back into his pocket. Sam had left the pub after showing the men inside, but had returned with Irish and two men. Daniel was shocked to recognize one of them as Lucas Foresight. When Irish found Daniel, he walked over to the table with his company in tow. The other man was Dwayne Moses, a soldier under Lucas's command.</p><p>"Hey guys, what's up?" asked Irish, who was now clean again. How long this would last remained to be seen, but for now they'd have to get used to the stench of public restroom soap.</p><p>Before any of the men were about to answer, Lucas pushed Irish out of the way, and grabbed Daniel by his jacket. "You! It's your fault my entire platoon died! Me and Dwayne were the only survivors thanks to your stupidity and lack of combat knowledge. I am going to tear your little head off!" Lucas let out a growl, his fists shaking. Tyrone, Tom, and Nick stood up. Shaun remained seated and drinking.</p><p>"Let go of him, Sergeant," ordered Tom.</p><p>"Make me." Lucas scowled at Tom, but then he felt a blade against his neck. He turned his head slightly to see Logan.</p><p>"Let go of him, or I'll spill your blood all over the walls," said Logan in a most matter-offact tone. Lucas released Daniel's jacket, then he quickly grabbed Logan's arm, pulled his body forward, and swung his own head back. The back of his skull smashed into Logan's nose, breaking it instantly. Logan fell to the ground after stumbling back a few steps, one hand trying to catch all the blood that seemed to have appeared as if by magic. In the instant that followed, metal clicked in near-unison as people started brandishing weapons. Lucas pulled out a Desert Eagle and aimed it at Daniel. Tyrone and Tom pointed their M1911 Colt .45 handguns at Lucas. Dwayne aimed an M16 at Tyrone, and Shaun lifted his grease gun toward Dwayne.</p><p>"Wait, I think these guys are da Special Forces," said Shaun, finally standing.</p><p>"No shit. How long did it take you to work that one out?" joked Irish as he helped Logan up to his feet. The music had stopped, casting the bar into ominous silence. Everyone was staring at the soldiers and their guns, hoping none of them would miss and hit them.</p><p>"Lower your weapons. We're all on the same side," said Sam.</p><p>"I am not on the same side as this man." Lucas stared coldly at Daniel without even blinking. Sam loaded his double-barrelled shotgun and rested it against the back of Lucas's head.</p><p>"Don't get an itchy trigger finger in my bar just 'cause you ain't shot enough ponies today. You work with him, or you'll be working as Satan's bitch," explained Sam.</p><p>Lucas lowered his weapon. "This isn't over," he growled. He turned and walked out the bar. Dwayne followed him, rolling his eyes and shrugging to the others before folding his hands behind his head.</p><p>"You men look a little worse for wear. Come with me, and I'll show you to your rooms," said Sam. As the men followed him out the door, the bar maid handed Logan her number and smiled. Logan smiled back, wrinkling his dimples.</p><p>A hoof slammed into Frank's face, breaking a few more of his teeth and leaving an arcshaped bruise on his battered cheek. One bit his ear in between its flat teeth and threw him facedown onto the floor. He collapsed less than a foot away from the open carcass of Deidre who was being presently jawed down by two ravenous ponies. They made gratuitous eating noises, chewing with their mouths open as they feasted upon Deidre’s lunch which had only partially digested.</p><p>"Please! Please, you must stop this!" Fluttershy was begging. "Please let them stop, Frank. I just can't stand to see such violence." The pegasus was nursing her bandaged shoulder while looking over a photograph of the elderly couple which had come loose from its broken frame. On the back was written, "Frank and Deidre, all the love in the world can never die."</p><p>Two ponies yanked Frank back on his feet. A third tore another chunk of his frizzy beard off.</p><p>"All you need to do is tell me where they're heading. Do you think you can do that?" asked Fluttershy. She smiled timidly at him. "Do you miss your friend, Deidre? I miss some of my friends, like the bear, or Red Mist. She was kind to you, wasn't she? But you see, Twilight explained it all to me. By your own logic, it was Mr Williams that got her killed. Your Adolf Hitler blamed the homosexuals for corrupting his country, but all they really did was get burned in his ovens. Your Vladimir Lenin founded something called the Bolshevik movement, and they blamed Tsar Nicholas's idolatry for the stinginess of their employers. So you know what they did on his order? They killed the Tsar's whole family! Even the children. Even the sickly one. Now, I know it hurts pretty bad, and you're all swollen up, so here. Try saying it with me. 'Fluttershy, the humans who were here left to go to...'" She trailed off expectantly, but Frank said nothing.</p><p>After a moment of staring her in the face with the one eye that wasn't swollen shut, he sputtered a wheezy laugh. "To get rid of you bastards," Frank said.</p><p>Fluttershy pouted and shook her head. "No, Frank," she said in a most forlorn tone.<br/>"We're over here. They ran away."</p><p>Another pony trotted in front of Frank, turned away from him, and kicked him square in the chest. Two of Frank's ribs cracked, and the ponies threw him once more to the floor.</p><p>"Oh, dear. I think maybe we'd all better get some rest. It'll be a big day tomorrow! I’m just so sorry that you'll still be in excruciating pain then, even before we start." Fluttershy frowned, hanging her head, and slowly she moped out of the living room. Two ponies pulled Frank up against a post and tied him to it.</p><p>"Wait, leave his head down. I'm gonna squeeze a turd out on it," one of the ponies said.</p><p>"Nighty night, demon," laughed another one of the ponies. Frank didn't care what they did to him. As long as he would be with his wife again, he could stand the pain. It was like dousing oneself in boiling water after being in the freezing sleet and rain. The degradation and beatings were all numb to him since his heart had been broken by Deidre’s untimely demise. He thought back to the day he had met her; the day she had walked into his office back in England. He thought of then, and cried like a little girl.</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter Nine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Accommodations. Methodology. A city under siege.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tom awoke at eight PM the next evening. He sat up on the edge of the bed he'd been given and took a look around his room. The entire squad had been provided with individual bedrooms per person in a hotel that looked like it hadn't seen much business but its fair share of use. As such, the squad was thankful to be separated into different rooms, between having suffered from Irish's poor hygiene and needing a general break to themselves following their harrowing ordeals. In fact, even during basic training, they'd slept in barracks, eaten in mess, and trained together. They hadn't had a real moment to themselves in the past three months or so. Tom stood up and walked over to his uniform which was folded neatly over the back of a chair over in the corner. He stepped into his black combat trousers, pulled on his black boots, and slipped himself into a white t-shirt. He wasn't aware of the exact time, which was irrelevant as he was headed down to the bar, leaving behind his army jacket, helmet and weapons which had been piled on the chair. When Tom walked out of the hotel, he could see the summer sun setting beneath a sky of glowing pink and orange hues. He yawned loudly, not even bothering to cover his mouth, and noticed Nick was right outside of the hotel, fixing up an old Ford Prefect.</p><p>"Hey man, what's up?" asked Tom.</p><p>Nick looked up from the engine at the front of the car and smiled. "Hey sleepy-peep. We thought you'd never get up in time." Nick turned back to the engine.</p><p>Tom yawned again. "Why? What time is it?"</p><p>"Eight PM." Nick didn't even look up.</p><p>"Shit! Is it really that late? It's almost time to hit the hay. Anyway, what are you doing?" asked Tom.</p><p>"I'm fixing this car up for Sam and his son, Jared. They're planning on packing up and moving. Plus which, I'm still waiting on a reply from EVAC on the radio." Nick stopped grunting and fidgeting beneath the hood long enough to point towards the nearby table with a radio on it.</p><p>"Oh, right. Wait, Sam has a son?" said Tom. He and Bella hadn't gotten that far yet, dammit.</p><p>"Yes. He's, uh, sixteen, I think. Hey, why don't you go tell the guys you're up? Daniel says he needs to talk to you." Nick nodded in the direction towards the bar.</p><p>Tom crossed the street to the pub where he soon caught up with the remainder of his squad sitting around a table. He sat down with them.</p><p>"Oh, look who's up," Tyrone said.</p><p>"What's a-matter? You shit the bed?" Irish laughed.</p><p>"No. Your mum gave me a hand job, and I woke up. Quite relaxing actually," replied Tom.</p><p>"Hey man, fuck you! Not my mama, man," said Irish. The squad responded with their obligatory canned laughter.</p><p>"Hey, Tom, can I speak with you?" asked Daniel in a low tone.</p><p>"Yeah, sure. Hey Logan, get us a drink, will ya?" Tom followed Daniel outside of the pub, briefly recollecting that one night outside the Ivory Inn so many moons ago. They both went outside and slumped up against the wall of the pub. Daniel looked around the fortress which used to be called a town. There wasn't much of the colourful sunset left over the giant walls with watch towers at every corner.</p><p>"What's up then?" asked Tom.</p><p>"It's just what Lucas said yesterday. It got to me." Daniel shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the dirt-caked sidewalk.</p><p>Tom let out a soft laugh at first that made Daniel glare in his direction. He kissed his fingers to his lips for want of a cigarette, then returned Daniel's gaze with a serious stare of his own. "Hey man, that wasn't your fault. You weren't ready. But after yesterday, I think you might just be. So just ignore him. He doesn't have a damn clue what he's talkin’ about."</p><p>"Thanks, Tom." Daniel nodded, understanding Tom's faith in him. He only hoped when the time came again, he wouldn't balk.</p><p>"No problem. Now, let's go have that drink." Tom stepped away from the wall, snapping his fingers and beckoning Daniel back inside.</p><p>Back inside of Frank's cabin, Frank had been untied from the post and knelt down in front of Fluttershy.</p><p>"Okay, so today, I really think we're going to get this right. Are you with me?" The pegasus beamed a happy, cordial smile at Frank. Frank no longer resembled the same man as when he'd met Daniel and his squad. His beard had been torn off, his ears battered, and his face splotched with ugly red and purple bruises. "My best friend, Rainbow Dash, taught me all about how to conduct a vigorous interrogation, so I'm going to give it all I've got! Um, uh, if that's okay with you, of course. After all, I'm only here to help you come out with the information I need you to share." She paused to clear her throat, then raised her voice a tad, slamming a hoof on the busted coffee table. "Where did they go? Grrr!" She gave ever so fierce an effort on her part to sound angry and intimidating.</p><p>Frank was losing it. His eyes were rolling back in his head. His pores were grimy with filth and sweat. "Fuck you," he said, using all his energy.</p><p>Fluttershy frowned. "Oh, dear. That's not a nice thing to say at all. Please believe me that I really don't want to do this, but you've simply got to be more mature about not using temper tantrum language like that." She squeezed Frank's left hand in between her hooves in such a way as to push back Frank's ring finger. Frank's golden wedding ring glowed in the sunset light streaming through the broken window.</p><p>"I’m gonna ask you again, okay? Please tell me where they are." Fluttershy looked quite upset.</p><p>Frank lifted his head and spat blood onto Fluttershy's face. “Oh, dear,” Fluttershy said.<br/>“Here we go. I’m afraid this is gonna hurt.” Fluttershy bit Frank’s finger and wrenched her head sharply. Frank wailed in pain as his finger tore clean away from his knuckle, and he fell to the floor, clutching his gushing wound. Fluttershy spat the finger to the floor and stuck out her tongue. The finger still had the ring on it, and Frank reached for it in desperation. Fluttershy gave him a swift kick in the face, breaking his nose and cutting open his forehead. Frank rolled over in pain and writhed on the floor.</p><p>"That’s useless. You won't get information that way," said a voice that Fluttershy knew. She turned her head to see, through the gaping doorway, Twilight Sparkle standing by a tree. Behind her was an army of ponies, which included a few dozen chargers.</p><p>"Twilight! Oh, I mean, my mistress. You’re so right! I tried to tell Rainbow Dash that this wasn’t my methodology at all, but she was just so insistent that I couldn’t bear to let her down. What do you propose we do?" asked Fluttershy.</p><p>Twilight could see that the mare was in want of some guidance, so she trotted off into the house with a pedantic grin. Moments later, she returned with Deidre’s mostly-eviscerated body draped across her back. She addressed Frank. "Tell us what we want to know, or say goodbye to your wife's corpse."</p><p>"What's the point? You're going to kill me anyway." Frank panted heavily until his breath was little more than wheezing. He tumbled onto his side again as one hand clutched at his pained chest.</p><p>"Nope! If you tell us what we want to know, then you’ll be free to go and bury your wife's body," said Twilight. Frank remained silent, so she added, “Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a cupcake in my eye.” She even mimed gestures to this effect.</p><p>Still Frank did not speak. "Suit yourself," said Twilight with a shrug. “But if you change your mind, let me know quick. Then you can still dig a hole and we can all throw up in it.” She went to take a bite out of Deidre’s body, her jaws opening wide. Deidre’s face had been left intact, but Twilight’s salivating maw loomed above.</p><p>"No! Just stop it already! I'll tell you. Just please don't. They went to Monsoon." Frank started to sob with shame, but his face ached too much to shed tears, and his chest had too many sharp pains to keep heaving so.</p><p>"See? That wasn't so hard, now was it?” Twilight’s voice was loud now, as though the Sisyphean ordeal of getting Frank to reveal one damned location wasn’t worth her presence.</p><p>“Oh, but Mistress, didn’t our intel already suggest that was the only way they could be headed? The pegasi did a sweep over and scouted the local terrain.” Fluttershy blushed behind one of her wings.</p><p>“Flutters, you just don’t get interrogation. Finish him off, lads!" Twilight took a big bite on Deidre’s face and bit the head right off of her body with a dry rip. Frank bellowed in animalistic horror as he watched. Three ponies began to eat away at his living flesh while he screamed in agony.</p><p>"Come on, mares! We go to Monsoon." Following their meal and Twilight’s order, the ensemble proceeded to march towards the town.</p><p>"Hey, the car’s fixed!" Nick shouted to the squad as they stood outside the pub with Sam and his son.</p><p>"Thank you, Nick. I’ll be sure to pay you back," Sam promised.</p><p>"No problem. It's the least I can do for your hospitality." Nick grinned.</p><p>Sam responded with a smile and a firm nod. He then went on to explain a few things.<br/>"Anyway, the EVAC will be here soon. You men better go pack your gear, hadn’t you?"</p><p>Most of the men had left their gear inside the pub, but Tom had left his in his room.<br/>"Mine’s in my room. I'll go get it," he explained, hurrying back toward the hotel at a brisk pace.</p><p>Just as he’d passed through the front doors of the hotel, the radio started emitting the buzzing sounds of static. A voice broke through the noise. "This is alpha base to delta squad. Do you copy?"</p><p>Nick's face lit up, and he immediately grabbed the radio. He began to speak, and the conversation consisted of a lot of, “Yes,” “Okay, sir,” and “Thank you, sir.” When he’d finally finished, he put down the radio and turned to the squad. "It's on its way. It should be ten minutes."</p><p>He’d barely finished his sentence when a shout came from one of the guards patrolling the town’s walls. "Ponies at the gate!" They all heard the deadly zip and a hard squish as a bullet struck the guard in the head. His body tumbled limply about a dozen or so feet, his limbs beginning to flail halfway in his descent like a ball of yarn coming unravelled until he landed face-down, right beside Nick, with a dull thud. Civilians immediately lapsed into hysterics while the soldiers of the town manned their battle stations. Nick and the rest of the squad ran into the pub with Sam and his son. For whatever reason, those who were not soldiers had evacuated this building, and Daniel surmised they had all fled further into town. He could feel already that his squad would be called upon to defend themselves.</p><p>"Alright, men. I think this is probably the best place to hold up until EVAC arrives," Daniel said, and his men agreed. Tyrone, Irish, and Shaun flipped a table and used it as cover, remembering how well this tactic had aided them in the past, and Daniel, Logan and Nick went behind the bar. Sam and Jared hid behind another table.</p><p>The main city doors blew open like a Wal-Mart on Black Friday, and as the sun finished setting, the ponies poured through to wage war on the town like murderous, stampeding shoppers. Twilight trotted through the entrance of the town as her legions of sapient equines haemorrhaged in through Monsoon’s front gates. Fires had already been set and were spreading to consume all they could. Structures were being reduced to rubble in both collateral damage and the ponies’ steadfast sweep of the city. From somewhere unseen, the ponies enacted unethical psychological warfare by playing the “Friends” theme song. A soldier dared fire at her, but Twilight blocked the bullets by spinning her cane in front of herself. The bullets ricocheted off of the whirling twin blades and deflected back into the soldier's chest. The soldier in question flung back over a railing and fell to the ground, stone dead. A set of garage doors opened and soldiers came driving out in Humvees while firing everything they had at the ponies. Twilight whistled and the chargers came crashing through the city walls with stupendous force, destroying nearly everything in their path. What they could not bash down, they shoved aside, or else they would bunch together but immediately spread back out at the first opportunity with impeccable electric unity.</p><p>Tom was heading towards his room when he heard the commotion, to put things mildly. He picked up the pace and dashed into his room. Out the window, he saw utter chaos. He ducked away to go pick up his jacket just when bullets came spraying through the windows, shattering glass all across the carpet. He dove to the floor, losing his grip on his jacket, which ended up shot to pieces. Shreds of the fabric flitted to the ground, and he gazed in awe at the sight as if so many unspeakable horrors had just converged upon a single point. He scrambled towards the scraps like an infant just finding the use of his hands and knees and pulled out the picture of Bella from the jacket’s breast pocket. He allowed himself a sigh of relief when he discovered the picture had not been damaged.</p><p>He grabbed his sniper rifle and aimed it out the window, finding a pony holding a heavy MG. Tom lined up his scope with the pony's head and fired. The bullet took the pony's head clean off, and the body dropped to the ground, oozing its life out of its obliterated neck.</p><p>Back in the bar, the squad waited anxiously for the enemy to walk through the front doors. The doors burst open, and the squad was about to fire when they saw that Lucas and Dwayne were the figures to enter. Lucas looked at them and said nothing. He just kept the grim expression on his face as he and Dwayne took cover behind another table which they turned on its side.</p><p>"What are you doing here?" asked Daniel, trying to keep his voice low. There was really very little need to do so; the war raged on outside with all the tumult of a tropical hurricane, and they were the Cubans rowing for safer shores.</p><p>"Fighting, unlike you," Lucas replied coldly.</p><p>"Well we know that much. He means, why are you in here?" Logan said.</p><p>"We got chased in by a squad. Now we’re waiting for them to come in," said Dwayne. He looked around at each of the others. “Better take your safeties off, ladies.” That would explain why he and Lucas were already aiming their guns at the possible entrances.</p><p>"Great. Just what we need." Irish’s sarcasm was palpable.</p><p>"Guys, let's just shut up and focus on the door," suggested Shaun in his usual nagging timbre.</p><p>“Or, perchance, the windows,” Lucas pointed out with smug satisfaction. Daniel’s squad exchanged glances. Irish kept swivelling back and forth between one of the windows and the doors. Logan and Nick kept their weapons aimed on the door while Tyrone and Shaun focused on either of the front windows, and Daniel wondered if they shouldn’t alternate their trajectories. He couldn’t quite make out where Sam and Jared had their guns trained.</p><p>“Don’t worry. They can’t jump the barricades from the rear entrance,” Sam assured them.<br/>“Whether by blasting or chewing their way through.”</p><p>The men fell silent once more as they finally opted for where to train their sights. This time when the door burst open, hordes of ponies charged in. Droves of cartoonish, equine quadrupeds careened through the doors, scrambling over one another, flailing madly and frothing at the mouth. Despite their eccentric flapping and tantric momentum, they billowed in with purpose, like trillions of baby white spiders gushing from their egg sacs. Their whinnying cries filled the room with din, raising decibels above even the staccato fire of the squad’s guns.</p><p>It wasn’t solely training that kept the men’s firing constant. It was fear; pure, base fear born of everything that had been fed to them since the extra-dimensional invasion had begun. They had tasted this inevitable human instinct in battle before, but that had been a tactical affair of attrition. This was unbridled hostility. The ponies kept coming, no matter how many they slew. The humans’ earlier thoughts on where they ought to concentrate had become moot; they were each scrambling to fire on whatever pony was nearest to them.</p><p>How they all survived this wave, none of them could say. It wasn’t the sort of story you believed when you heard some drunk telling it to you in another sleazy monument to alcoholism. It wasn’t the sort of story you told sober. After a while of shooting, the ponies just stopped charging into the pub. There was a reeking pile of dead, Technicolor creatures cramming every corner of the place like dust bunnies.</p><p>"I think that's it." Dwayne stood up.</p><p>"Get down, you idiot," whispered Tyrone.</p><p>Dwayne didn't listen. “EVAC ain’t makin’ it through this shit to us,” he said. “We’ve got to make some headway.” He approached the door and reached for the handle. A charger smashed through the wall, splintering it like a Kool-Aid commercial. Dwayne shouted out for help, his body grabbed up just like a ragdoll. With one brutish tug, the charger ripped Dwayne's body in twain. The squad could see the broken segments of his detached spine go limp among the maroon gore and ordure that slouched from both parts of his body. The pony squeezed the blood from Dwayne's severed torso into its mouth, supping from him like a lobster feeding on a hermit crab.</p><p>It was too late; several moments too late, in fact, when Lucas shouted, "Dwayne, no!" The men snapped back to comprehension and opened fire, but once again, the bullets didn't even faze the charger. The blood of its enemy only made it stronger. The charger charged toward the</p><p>bar. Logan, Daniel and Nick dove out from behind the structure as the charger crashed through it like a wrecking ball through a toothpick sculpture.</p><p>"This is useless!" shouted Irish over the crunching timber and gunfire.</p><p>"Watch this! Me, Tom and Shaun killed one of these things back at Frank's," replied Tyrone. Pulling out his knife, he jumped on the charger’s back and began to stab it repeatedly in the neck. His blade flashed and twisted like silver lightning, tearing the flesh so blood would bubble to the surface. The charger wailed in pain, its body seizing up in a kind of paralysis.</p><p>"It's working!" shouted Irish. He too pulled out his knife and lunged across the ground as if stealing home plate. When he stabbed the charger in the leg, the beast ceased fumbling with Tyrone to look down at him.</p><p>"Aw shit," cursed Irish, shortly before the charger kicked his cranium like a soccer ball, and he went flying into the far wall. Irish thumped against the plaster and fell into a foetal position with a groan. Daniel and Logan pulled out their knives and grabbed hold of each of the charger’s legs. Back and forth, they stabbed the legs as if they were playing a tug-of-war with their blades. The charger emitted another furniture-shaking bellow as he failed to extricate the pair of humans from his shins, and soon he dropped onto his knees with a mighty quake. Everyone but the winded Irish joined in the pointed reckoning, brandishing their knives like silverware at a Thanksgiving dinner, and stabbed the charger to death.</p><p>Panting and wiping a splatter of blood from his face, Daniel turned on his wireless headset to speak with command. "Command, where the hell is EVAC?" he shouted.</p><p>A reply crackled through almost immediately. "They can't land! It's too dangerous! They’ll meet you on top of the hotel roof.”</p><p>"Mat!" shouted Daniel.</p><p>"What?" asked Logan.</p><p>"Command can’t land; it's too dangerous. We have to meet them on the roof of the hotel."</p><p>"Well? Let's go!" Irish clutched his chest and coughed as he pushed himself onto his feet. The squad cleared out of the pub into the chaotic streets of Monsoon with Sam, Jared and Lucas following them. The massive squad they’d totalled must have comprised the majority of the pony forces in this sector, but they could still hear staccato bursts of gunfire, deafening explosive blasts and hoarse Wilhelm screams.</p><p>Sam pushed ahead to catch up with Daniel. "Daniel. My son and I will take the car.”</p><p>"What? That’s suicide."</p><p>"No, trust me. I know a way out.”</p><p>"Okay. Be careful," said Daniel. He wasn’t the leader of Sam, as far as he knew. He was the leader of his army. Sam nodded, and he and his son got into a nearby car and drove off.</p><p>The squad ran all the way to the hotel, but the going was not without incident. They witnessed soldiers sniping ponies out of upper-story windows. It even appeared some of the town’s citizenry comprised a sort of ad-hoc militia force, and as Daniel graciously glanced up towards one of their would-be saviours, he saw a man get impaled with a spiralling charger horn and flung out the window to the pavement below. When they dared a seemingly deserted alleyway as a sort of safe detour, they had to gun down a troop of Equestrians that blocked their path.</p><p>They burst into the hotel, guns blazing, but the lobby was devoid of the living. “We need to find Tom,” Daniel said, his heart jumping into his throat as he looked over the bloodied corpses. His squad said nothing, for there was nothing to debate when they were in unanimous agreement.</p><p>Lucas, however, had a predictable objection. “You have got to be kidding me, soldier! We haven’t the time to go back out onto the streets looking for a corpse. Meanwhile, we’ve got to worry about securing a route to EVAC.” Without stalling to argue over the matter further, Lucas cocked his gun and leapt up a stairwell, taking the steps two at a time.</p><p>As the sounds of gunfire echoed into the building, Daniel stared off into space. Logan patted him on the back. “I’m sure he’s just in his room, lad. He’s a sniper, so he may ‘ave already headed up.”</p><p>Much to their delight, the squad met Tom on the stairs just outside his floor. He smiled, grabbing Daniel’s shoulders, and they were relieved to find one another. “I saw you lot out the window. Where’s EVAC?”</p><p>Daniel cut his explanation short, and together they continued to the roof. The helicopter was just setting itself down as they arrived, but Lucas wasn’t the only one waiting for them.</p><p>“Leaving so soon?” asked Twilight Sparkle.</p><p>Lucas had his machete whipped out. “This is how you be a leader, Williams. Get to the chopper, all of you!” To Twilight, he shouted, "You’re mine!"</p><p>"What? Don't be a fool. Get in the helicopter," said Shaun, scratching the side of his head.</p><p>Lucas ignored him and charged at Twilight, holding his machete like a samurai’s katana. Twilight dodged Lucas's attack in one spinning motion, simultaneously drawing her blade across his stomach. She slit his belly wide open with one end of her cane, then turned it around and stabbed him in the back, sinking it straight between two segments of spinal column. Without losing the grim scowl on his face, Lucas fell to the roof, dead.</p><p>Nick fired his weapon at her, but she whirled her cane in a circular fan-like motion, blocking the bullets. One of the bullets deflected back and sunk into Nick’s leg. Nick wailed in pain, and the squad hoisted him into the copter just before the doors shut.</p><p>"Get us out of here!" Daniel ordered the pilot as he kept pressure on Nick's wound. His hands clenched hard around his leg as warm blood bubbled over them. The helicopter picked off the ground with torturous slow speed. Twilight smiled. Shaun pressed his hand and nose onto the window, leaving a grease mark upon the glass as he looked outwards. A wall of gleaming orange rose like high tide below them. Black smoke filled the already night sky, further darkening the world around them. The whole town of Monsoon had gone up in flames.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter Ten</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Pairs. Just missing you so much. A pop quiz.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The helicopter landed in the nearest human military base to the pony capital. Elbsandsteingebirge base held its precarious location for two reasons: One, it was defensible thanks to underground facilities, and because it boasted the highest concentration of Sherman tanks the surviving human race possessed. The other reason was that those stationed there had no other place to go from there. They had to defend the base, because there was no route through the surrounding pony territory.</p><p>There were two specific things that Daniel was dreading more than anything else at that moment. The first thing was Nick’s wound, which, in spite of the turbulence, he and Logan had forced themselves to bandage. Would Nick ever walk again? Where was the bullet now? The wound was deadly close to the knee, and Daniel had a grisly feeling about that.</p><p>The second point of dread was how they’d gotten this close to base without encountering the Equestrians. Their chopper was well-armed, but so had been the plane. Surely the entire pony army had not been mobilized to Monsoon, and enough forces could be spared to obliterate one chopper carrying the human army’s leading squadron. Daniel had a nasty notion that they were being permitted to approach the base, rather than stealing some halcyon opportunity.</p><p>As soon as the doors to the helicopter were opened, Tom and Daniel carried Nick out on a stretcher. Nick was crying out in pain like a wounded animal. He’d been strapped down so that he could no longer writhe, but he continued to girn in frustration with himself for his carrying on. Every hoarse cry that rumbled through his teeth relieved at least a mild touch of the pain that grasped his knee. The news came as a shock: The bullet had indeed hit his knee and shattered his cartilage.</p><p>Once the squad piled out of the helicopter, a German doctor ran over to Tom and Daniel.<br/>"Bring him this way," said the doctor in a rather strong accent. Tom and Daniel carried Nick as they followed the doctor to a large green tent. To their surprise, the tent held no medical supplies, but instead covered a massive staircase leading down into the cut sandstone. They hurried down numerous flights of stairs, struggling to keep Nick’s stretcher as straight as they could, then turned down a long hallway and finally into a long infirmary. The doctor instructed them to lift Nick onto a bed. "Okay, calm down. Everything is going to be alright." The doctor transferred Nick from the stretcher and strapped him to the bed.</p><p>"Oh god, I can’t move! I can’t stand it!" Nick had to be held down by Tom and Daniel.</p><p>"This is going to hurt. The less you move, the better," the doctor explained. He then pointed to Daniel. "You hold his shoulders." Daniel obeyed, placing his hands firmly on Nick's shoulders. The doctor then placed a wooden pole in Nick's mouth. "Bite on this," he instructed.</p><p>“Tch, Germans,” Tyrone muttered, crossing his arms.</p><p>The doctor handed Tom a pair of clamps, and Tom’s face fell. "Okay. You take these, and when I hold his leg open, I want you to find the bullet and clamp it."</p><p>Tom nodded, but Daniel could see he didn’t look confident in the slightest. Then he did a double-take. “Wait, me? But you’re the doc, Doc!”</p><p>"I will be monitoring the patient,” the doctor replied. “Simply look for something shiny that doesn’t belong. And do not whisk everything around like it is some Black Forest pudding. Okay, now. Brace yourselves."</p><p>Nick closed his eyes and tried to forget about the pain. It was becoming too much for him to endure, and he imagined forgetting about his immediate situation would be inexplicably easy. He wanted to will himself to faint. Couldn’t they give him any drugs? At the time, he still didn’t know where he was, or that getting supplies was a fool’s errand.</p><p>“Do not let him lose consciousness,” the doctor said. “Slap him awake!” Daniel’s first impulse was not to harm Nick further, and he only swatted limply at Nick’s cheek. “No, no, no!” the doctor shouted. His tone of voice alone warned Daniel to the seriousness of the situation, and Daniel smacked Nick on the face so hard that he himself flinched. He thought he deserved to be punched in retaliation.</p><p>The doctor pulled Nick’s leg open even more. Nick screamed, and Daniel struggled to hold him still. He pushed down hard upon Nick’s shoulders with his arms until he worried he was going to break something. Tom rammed the clamps into Nick's leg. “Oh, god, what am I doing?” he asked aloud. A split second after his shaking hands started to pull away from the clamps, the doctor seized them and forced him to take hold once more. Nick bit down on the wooden pole as he tried to escape from the bed. Still, Tom complained. “Holy shit. I think I’m gonna be sick. I know it.”</p><p>The doctor glared at Tyrone. “When he faints, you take over.”</p><p>“Aw, hell no.”</p><p>But just then, Tom felt the clamp tap the bullet. He clamped it, squeezing hard several times. At first he thought he felt the spongy squish of Nick’s meat, but soon he realized he’d had the bullet pinched. Nick’s scream was like a shrill party favour.</p><p>"Okay, what do I do now?" asked Tom, his voice wavering. He’d seen wounds before in battle, but this was entirely different. Obsessing over the garish sight of the bleeding red and pink mass was not something he ever expected to deal with.</p><p>“Hey, stay with us here!” Daniel said.</p><p>"Pull it to the surface," ordered the doctor. Tom pulled the bullet hard out of Nick's leg. The bullet was still attached to a bit of Nick's leg muscle. The doctor grabbed a scalpel and lopped through the muscle, and Nick's blood squirted across Tom's face. Nick screamed, but the pain was too unbearable for him. He passed out.</p><p>"Is he ok?" Daniel shouted with concern, and he began smacking Nick’s face.</p><p>"He's going to be fine now. He’s just passed out, but I needed his muscles taut. Now my job will be easier. You may be going now. Your friend will be fine." The doctor sounded so calm, so authoritative, that Tom, Tyrone and Daniel exited the infirmary without further argument. They stared at Nick’s unconscious form until they were out of eyeshot. He was so sweaty and pale just from the pain alone that he looked a bit like a corpse. The very sight was too strange for them. Daniel tried to think, but he could only recognize seeing a body like that in a film that portrayed a funeral. Too many people died bloody in this war.</p><p>Outside, the rest of the squad was waiting on the news. "He's going to be okay," Daniel said. He nodded back toward the infirmary hallway, not acting on an urge to cite the doctor’s confidence. He was willing to stake his reputation on Nick’s well-being. The men let out a collective sigh of relief.</p><p>Tom looked around and saw a blue phone box over by the barracks. "I'm going to make a call," he said.</p><p>At around that time, a second helicopter landed and Peter Williams stepped out of it. The squad had moved back above ground, though they’d been warned to limit their fresh air. The most defensible base was treated rather like hostile territory, and having two choppers land was a true blue moon event.</p><p>"Hey Daniel, is that yo dad?" Tyrone pointed at the helicopter.</p><p>All Daniel had noticed up until then was that it was a super-fast STH model, but at Tyrone’s mention, Daniel spotted his approaching father. He remembered being angry with him when he’d lost his cool in Frank’s jungle cabin. He remembered moping in his office and feeling as if he was arguing with him when he begged to have his friends come with him. That thought made him remember Nick’s current condition. He ran over to his father and hugged him, glad that the pair of parent and son could be reunited.</p><p>"Dad, what are you doing here?" He pulled away, finding his voice little more than a choked whisper.</p><p>"Son, I've come to give you something." Peter turned and took a box out of the helicopter. He held it in both arms, and then knelt to balance it on one knee so that he could open it. Inside was a PPSH: a Russian submachine gun.</p><p>"It belonged to James. He used it the day he died. Now it's yours." Peter lifted the open box again and waited for Daniel to take the gun. Daniel stared at the weapon with a blank expression. It was being offered to him, and yet he didn't know whether to take it or not. As if this was Pandora’s box, its opening had unleashed an emotion that Daniel hadn't felt since receiving the news of his brother’s death. His brother had died wielding this weapon, and staring at it made him realize it would be useless against the sorrow that was imploding his very soul. Even the tiny bit of pride he felt was but a faint hope that he could ever bear the honour of using the weapon that had been in his family for generations.</p><p>"Go ahead. Take it, son." Peter gave his son a weary, wrinkled smile. Daniel tried to return it, but his face hurt.</p><p>"Yeah. Thanks, Dad," he said. He tried to tell himself this wasn’t a bad thing. His brother had been a soldier. A capable leader of the army. A war hero. Daniel wanted to believe that if he held this weapon, he could follow in his brother’s footsteps, for better or worse.</p><p>Tom had been staring at Bella’s picture in the phone booth all this time. He tried folding it up, but he was strangely worried about creasing the image on the sheet of paper. “God dammit, just do it,” he grumbled to himself. “She ain’t gonna call you here.” He snatched up the receiver and dialled Bella's number. "Come on, babe, pick up," said Tom before the first ring had even finished. He tried to smooth out their picture while thumbing a promise ring.</p><p>Bella rolled over in her bed in Russia when the phone woke her. Tangled in the sheets, her foot fumbled and kicked into a mound of disarrayed bedding. It was as if Tom was still there.<br/>“Oops. Sorry.” She picked her head up and starred groggily at the chiming phone for a second or two, and said, “Oh, right.” She grabbed the phone, pressed it to the side of her face, and turned the receiver right-side up.</p><p>"Hello," she yawned.</p><p>Tom smiled and practically started dancing in place with excitement.</p><p>"Hello?” Bella said again. “Is anyone there?" She sounded crabby.</p><p>"Yeah. Yeah, baby, it's me," answered Tom. When he heard her yawn, he remembered it was night and that she must have been asleep. He whispered to her as if trying to gently awaken her.</p><p>Bella sat up in her bed, her eyes wide. “You’re alive,” she said, making a rather blunt observation. She switched hands with the receiver. "Babe, it’s so good to hear from you!"</p><p>"Yeah, baby, it's so good to speak to you!" Tom. His voice was a little louder this time, and shaking. He wasn’t even looking at their photo anymore. He was imaging her face all by himself. He was thinking of the last time he, Bella, and Daniel had been together at the Ivory.</p><p>Bella covered her mouth and the transmitter, whispering loudly. "How have you been? Is everything all right? Where are you?" she asked.</p><p>"Yeah, but I'm just missing you so much. We’re at, uh. Elbe-something-something. Some German base. Not sure of the damn name. It’s breaking my heart, baby. It really is. Missing you, I mean. Not the language.”</p><p>“I know, honey, I know. So, how’s the war going?” She twirled her hair with a finger.</p><p>Tom furrowed his brow in thought. What in the heck did he say about that? “Oh, it’s had its ups and downs. Things’ve been heating up. I just wanted to hear your voice before we continue with the mission."</p><p>"You haven't finished yet.” Bella’s voice sounded a bit muffled. Tom worried the connection was going to deteriorate.</p><p>"No, baby. Not finished yet. I'm sorry.”</p><p>"No. Don't be sorry; just make sure you come back to me. I'm sick of having to sleep alone.” Bella looked sideways. “I need you back here.”</p><p>Tom let out a heavy sigh. He did not know if he would return.</p><p>"Promise me!" ordered Bella.</p><p>"Okay, baby. I promise I’ll return to you." He mumbled. His throat was tightening up. He started breathing heavily. The conversation felt like it was ending soon. Before he knew it, he was thinking aloud, desperate to keep her on the line. “How much longer do we have to speak? Can you stay up a bit longer? How much longer before I get called off to some other battle?” He did not know why he asked her that last question.</p><p>Bella was quiet for a beat. “Yeah, sweetie. Yeah, I can stay up for you. I can stay up as long as you like.”</p><p>“I don’t know what to say.” Tom’s voice cracked. “I mean, like, I know what to say. I don’t know why I can’t say it all. Or maybe I don’t know.”</p><p>“Shh! Shh.”</p><p>Tom quieted down to focus on his thoughts, but he could steal here the cacophonous wrenching of the plane, the zipping thud of bullets ending the lives of various soldiers, and the staccato percussion of gunfire deafening him from every angle. He remembered the horrific whistling of air from when the Humvee had hurdled through the sky. He remembered the tumultuous splash when it had struck the water. He realized what he wanted to say.</p><p>“Hey, Bella, honey?”</p><p>“Oh, baby. Please, be quiet.”</p><p>“No, Bella. I know what I want to say now. When I see you again, let’s go for a walk in the woods.”</p><p>“Oh! Mm-hm!”</p><p>“Just you and me. And we’ll get a cosy little cabin in the woods.”</p><p>“Huh! Oooh.” She sounded surprised. Tom had to admit they’d never shared such a romantic gesture before. He worried that it wouldn’t sound genuine.</p><p>He didn’t care He continued anyway. “And we’re gonna live off the land. We’ll trap bear and have a kitchen, and when you look out the windows, all you see are trees and water.”</p><p>“That’s good. That’s lovely!”</p><p>“And we’re gonna live out there, just the two of us, for years and years, until we live to a ripe old age together.” He didn’t know if he could keep it up. He kept trying to think of Frank and Deidre. They seemed like such a happy couple. He knew that once the war was over, couples wouldn’t have to get torn apart the way Frank had lost Deidre. He just knew it. He couldn’t put into words what it was Frank and Deidre had together, but they had been so immaculate in their mutual devotion. If he could at least describe how they had lived, he could get close enough to how he wanted to feel for Bella.</p><p>Bella sounded pleased. “Mm! Oh, babe, you’re so wonderful.”</p><p>“I wish you could see me right now. I’ve got a great big smile on.” It started to fade, however, as the reality of his situation called him back. “I just. That’s what I wanted to tell you, I think. And I’ll be thinking of you, when I’m back out there, fighting. When it’s dangerous.”</p><p>“Dammit, I told you to keep it safe.”</p><p>Tom chuckled. “I’ll try, baby. I’ll try.” He took a deep breath. “I love you,” he said. There was a quiet airy silence. “Babe?” he asked. “You asleep?” He hung on for a while, wishing she snored even a tiny bit so that he could hear her slumber. He smiled to himself as he finally hung up the phone. He slammed his back against the wall, then slid down to the ground and put his head in his hands. A tear rolled down his right cheek as he messed up his hair. He didn't mind dying, but knowing how it would abandon Bella, how sad it would make her, made him feel as if he might be dead already.</p><p>Logan tapped on the edge of the open phone booth, then crouched beside him. ”You alright, mate?" he asked.</p><p>Tom looked up at him, smearing his tears with his palm with a sniffle. "Yeah, I'll be fine."</p><p>Logan pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket. "You want a smoke?" He put a cigarette to his mouth and lit it. Tom shook his head. "Listen, mate. I'm gonna make sure you make it back to her, alright?" Tom nodded in response. "Good. Now let's go get some rest. We move out to the capital tomorrow. It's gonna be one didgeridoo of a battle." Logan took several puffs of smoke in between his words and smiled at Tom.</p><p>Tom smiled back. "That it is. That it is."</p><p>Logan stood up and offered his hand to Tom. Tom took it, and Logan pulled him to his feet.</p><p>Twilight watched as the ponies devoured the crispy, crunchy, well-cooked bodies of the fallen humans. They spit the bullets out like watermelon seeds, firing in tandem in a most cartoonish fashion.</p><p>Fluttershy approached. "I heard you needed me, your majesty?” She held her head low, so that her long, flowing pink bangs covered one eye.</p><p>Twilight rolled her eyes, but kept smiling. "It’s nice to hear somepony got a message around here. I’ve just got one teensy, tiny little question for you. Where were you in battle?"</p><p>Fluttershy looked down at her hooves as she scratched one through the soot. "I was watching out for people trying to escape,” she lied.</p><p>"Oh really, now? Because a man and a young boy escaped from here."</p><p>"Oh. Oh, I knew about that, but they were simply too fast for me." Fluttershy picked her head up to frown sadly at Twilight.</p><p>Twilight shook her head and held up a strange-looking projectile device. It looked like a hollow cone with the narrow tip sliced off and several lateral cuts made down the side from this end. It had a wide handle on the underside, shaped kind of like a stirrup, so it almost looked like an Equestrian megaphone. "Now I’ve got a bunch of not-so-teensy questions for you. What is this device, and what does it do?" Twilight managed to keep from boasting that she already knew the answer.</p><p>"Well, it’s, um...it's a Unishot. It fires one horn from a unicorn, and has a poisoned end."</p><p>Twilight spoke very slowly as though she were translating to a stubborn child. "Yes, and what does the poison do to moving vehicles?" Once again, she had to bite her tongue to keep from revealing the answer to her own query.</p><p>"It disables them," Fluttershy said. Her frown screwed itself up as she slouched.</p><p>"Good! Now, this is a very important question next. Why didn't you use it? Every pony has one." Twilight was getting that nasally tone in her voice to indicate her surmounting annoyance.</p><p>"Well. Well, I just forgot, I guess. I'm ever so sorry. You know I’m just not good at aiming and hitting things!" Fluttershy apologized profusely, her head almost hanging below her knees.</p><p>Twilight shook her head and sighed like a doting parent. "Don't worry about it. But do remind me, what does it do to living organisms such as ourselves or the humans?"</p><p>"It, um, shuts down their entire muscular system, and most of their nervous system except for their pain receptors. Also, it heightens their brain activity to keep them nice and conscious, ultimately causing them a protracted and suffering death."</p><p>"Oh yeah," said Twilight, looking at the weapon as if she had genuinely forgotten all about the weapon’s design, even after studying it obsessively during its development. “You know, you deserve an almost perfect grade for that answer.” She shot Fluttershy in the neck.</p><p>Fluttershy fell sideways to the ground. Even her expression remained mostly unchanged as the fast-acting toxins petrified her all over. She began to choke as her lungs seized up, crushed by the weight of her own chest. Her respiratory system still functioned enough to keep her from suffocating too quickly, but there was one other function of the Unishot which she had failed to mention. Her tear ducts still functioned perfectly, as evidenced by the stream of tears that began trickling down her right cheek.</p><p>Twilight stood over her. "I’m so sorry, Fluttershy, but you’ve failed us too many times. I realize it’s some kind of personality flaw of yours to behave like a coward, but this is war. The humans are all super-macho. Your whimpering is inefficient. They grow beards, you put bows in your tail. They hunt and eat other living creatures, and you want to play with animals. When we undertook this cause, we knew there would be rules. We knew there would be consequences. We knew we’d have to adapt."</p><p>Twilight seemed to forget Fluttershy was still there, and she radioed Rainbow Dash.<br/>"Queen, we’re coming back home. Better check the defences. We’ll be expecting dinner." She clicked off the radio with a smug smirk. This expression faded when she clicked it back on again. “And by that I mean humans.”</p><p>The radio crackled to life with Rainbow Dash’s voice. "Roger that, eh.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter Eleven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rise and shine. A strategy by two fronts. Return to the trenches.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A loud horn woke the men early in the morning, and even after three months of training and their recent harrowing expedition, they could not help ruminate on a cold thought that it was a bit sadistic to be woken after what they’d been through last night. They climbed off of their squeaky, thin mattresses and got dressed. Tom showed off the new army jacket he’d been given to Daniel. He admired the shiny new machete he’d received as well, that each member of the squad had been given. Daniel responded by waving his own back at him.</p><p>"So, you ready?" Logan came over to pat Daniel on the shoulder.</p><p>"Yeah, I think I am," said Daniel. He took a deep breath. Logan smiled.</p><p>A German officer entered the barracks. “Daniel Williams, report to the briefing room immediately." With this order, he turned about and exited the barracks. The squad looked at one another in the aftermath of this glib announcement, and they all followed him out.</p><p>"Hey, where’s Nick? He still in the infirmary?" Irish looked around as they wandered down the hall, but all he could see were the grim faces of his companions staring back at him. When they rounded the next corner, Nick appeared from the direction of the medical wing. He was using crutches to walk towards them.</p><p>"Hey, lads." His voice sounded soft, even remote, but he mustered a smile for them.</p><p>Shaun whirled around, pushing his foggy glasses back up his nose. "Hey, mate. What's the haps? How come you ain’t fightin’ with us?" He mimicked a few air punches in Nick’s direction.</p><p>Nick shook his head. "I have to take time for my leg to heal,” he explained. “Taking a bullet to the knee is kind of serious business. The doctor says I’m lucky even to be awake this soon, let alone using these.”</p><p>Tyrone reached out to Nick, grabbing his arm but pulling himself closer for a brotherly kind of hug. "Hey, don't worry none, man. We’ll get dem for you. We’ll get them good."</p><p>Nick shook his head. “It’s not revenge I’m worried about. You guys are my only friends. If something happened because I couldn’t be there for you, I’d never forgive myself.” Despite his pessimistic implication, he kept on smiling. It was a taut, achy sort of smile, but an unmistakable sight.</p><p>"Don't worry, Nick. I know we’re coming home. I’ve got big plans for Bella.” Tom looked over at Daniel as the former spoke. “But you know what you can do? Doesn’t hurt to have a collateral plan. Just supposin’ we’re all out here a little longer than our planned vacations allow, how about you give this to Bella for me?" Tom handed Nick a sealed letter that he’d written before he went to bed. “I managed to call her last night, but, well, it figures I’d think of everything else I wanted to say after I’d already hung up.”</p><p>Nick nodded as Tom handed him the letter. Tom pointed at him in a joshing sort of warning. “Don’t read it!”</p><p>Nick’s smile grew. “I won’t,” he promised.</p><p>When Daniel reached the briefing room, his squad bid him adieu. They sat down to chat amongst themselves, and Daniel wanted to let them know he wouldn’t be gone long. He stopped himself, realizing he didn’t quite know that. He shrugged at them and entered the room.</p><p>In the middle of the room was a table with a map of Germany spread across it. The only other person within was an unfamiliar officer standing over a dome-shaped object on the desk’s corner.</p><p>"Has my father not arrived yet?" asked Daniel. The officer didn’t reply, so Daniel crooked one brow and asked, “Or is it just me and you.” The officer shook his head and thumbed a button on the dome-shaped device. A soft glow popped up out of a small eye-like projector on the device’s and gradually sharpened into focus. All the blues faded into other colours until Daniel, who was still shocked at the lights emanating about a foot or so above the plain-looking object, could make out a humanoid figure. The image was Avery Johnson’s.</p><p>"Whoa. How is this possible? I haven't seen anything like it outside of movies.” Daniel gawked at Johnson, and even dared to poke at the sergeant major’s moustache. His finger lit up just as if he’d shined a flashlight on it. Johnson frowned.</p><p>"We have top scientist work on it for three years. I and Johnson are only people who have it.” The German officer had a rather strong accent, and broken English to boot. A thought almost crossed Daniel’s mind that it would’ve helped if he’d learned some German as well as Russian, but he’d been a bit preoccupied.</p><p>"Good to see you again, Williams! We need your input to confirm our plans. If you’ve got any objections, son, now’s the time to do it." said Johnson.</p><p>At first he needed a moment to stop ogling the advanced technology, but then Daniel thought about what he would say. He was tempted to suggest just going with the plans as they currently stood, whatever they were, but then he remembered what Lucas had said to him back in Monsoon. He didn’t much like he accusation that everything that could have gone wrong had been his fault. He couldn't face that weight again. He was shocked nobody had arrested him on arrival at Elbe base. But there’d been no inquisition. Nobody had lectured him on the costs of the plane and Humvee they’d lost. Nobody had shown up claiming to be Deidre’s grandson or anything, wanting to sock him in the eye for getting her killed. He wasn’t being court martialled for the burning of Monsoon. But he still felt guilty. He thought he should look at the map. He leaned his fists on the table and studied the map. At first, he had no clue what he was looking at. Cartography was just a bunch of squiggly lines to him. He could barely discern any of the features enough to identify a landmass. Seriously, he was not a geographer. So he studied the map from other angles, sideways and upside down.</p><p>Johnson’s voice broke the silence. “Just name it, Daniel. Name it, and you’ve got it.”</p><p>Daniel picked his head up and stared at the miniature hologram. What did they have to give? Well, he could think of what it’d be nice to have, and he figured it was inevitable they would spout their limitations after he made some suggestions. This time, they were going to get what they were asking for. "I want half our ground units dropped just outside these gates, and with them, I want some Humvees, tanks and mortars that can just hang back and fire, maybe from over here.” He picked up some of the tiny model vehicles and moved them around. “Park ‘em over here. Roll up on ‘em from all directions. Beep-beep. Then I want the rest of the ground units here on the west side of this wall. It’s gonna be a long drive, but we’ll just have to vroom our way through it.” He marched some model infantry over on the map, and slid more cars to follow them.</p><p>“They ought to have some heavy-duty turrets and more mortars set up. I’m talking big guns. Like, blam! Not pew-pew. Bullets have been good for sniping the grunts, like this. Ftoom!” He picked up a model pony and an infantry figurine, shook them both, and made the pony fall on its side. “But we’re gonna need a ton of munitions. They’ve got these mutant chargers, right? They’re like, impervious to bullets for some reason. We’re all like, ‘pow, pow!’ but they’re all like, ‘ping, ping!” He picked up another pony, and mimed it stomping all over some infantry.</p><p>“Then from their right, I want air strikes and tanks giving constant fire on the ponies. Nyown! Tatatatatatata!” He moved a model jet through the air and brushed some more ponies onto their sides with his other hand. “As they do that, these men in the middle here will advance forward. We’re gonna have to keep cover fire on the ponies. All this means the ponies will only have one way to escape: And that's in this direction over here!” He shoved the majority of the pony models into one pile. “If they do this, then we can hit them with heavy MG and more mortars. Pow! Kaboom! Then me and my squad will advance into the building and take Rainbow Dash. We’ll knock her up at least ten points on the ugly scale by the time we’re through with her." He surrounded another pony figure with some infantry and imitated them gunning it down from every angle.</p><p>Johnson and the officer looked shocked. They never thought he would come up with such a brilliant plan. Daniel looked a little shocked himself. He’d just improvised that whole stratagem.</p><p>"That's great idea, Williams," said Johnson. “This’ll show them raggedy-ass ponies who’s in charge of da Urf.”</p><p>"I'll inform the men." The German officer gave an awkward little bow before he left the room.</p><p>"Okay, Daniel. I will inform the air forces. And one more thing: Be careful, look both ways before you cross the street, and make an angry black stereotype proud. Am I right, marine?" said Johnson. Daniel saluted him and promptly exited the room. “Hey, wait,” Johnson said. “You forgot to switch me off.”</p><p>The squad’s reprieve was sadly short. The humans had to scramble their resources in order to meet their needs as outlined by Daniel’s demands, and they had to do this before the gap in the Equestrian’s defences closed. On the day of reckoning, Daniel approached the Humvee assigned to him and his squad. The whole gang was standing there beside the vehicle, awaiting him. Even Nick and his doctor were there.</p><p>"Hey Nick, I thought you weren't coming this time," Daniel said.</p><p>"I ain’t, dammit. Just wanted to say goodbye." Nick shook Daniel's hand. “I know I said I didn’t care about revenge, but see if you can ice one of them suckers just for me, eh?” Daniel nodded.</p><p>"Good luck, men," said the doctor.</p><p>"Thanks, and thanks a million more for helping out Nick." asked Daniel. “We’d send you a postcard, but I just realized we never got your name.”</p><p>The doctor smiled. "No problem. Call me Dr Hitler." The doctor shook Daniel's hand. Daniel put on a worried face. The doctor laughed. "Don't worry; I have no relations to him." Dr Hitler shared a reassuring laugh. “Now get in that vehicle!” he shouted.</p><p>Daniel laughed as well and climbed hastily into the Humvee alongside the squad. Logan once more took the driver’s seat. Tom sat in the passenger seat and watched as Daniel buckled himself in. “This is it,” he said. Irish manned the gun. Tyrone, Shaun and Daniel sat in the back. They were as ready as they could ever be for battle.</p><p>"Is the army ready?" asked Rainbow Dash.</p><p>"Ee-yep, yep, yeppers!" replied Pinkie Pie, who was adorned in a wench’s dirndl and carrying a beer stein filled with frothing cider.</p><p>Twilight flew down, mounted on a pegasus.</p><p>"Where’s Fluttershy?" Pinkie Pie asked the unicorn.</p><p>"I killed her for being a coward. Now drink your damn cider," replied Twilight in her usual stern voice.</p><p>Rainbow Dash let out a sigh as she shook her head. "About time! Her constant disappointments and cowardly ways were too much for her to live. Still, I think we could’ve traded her for something decent."</p><p>"I think you’ve gone local, my queen! You’re sounding positively butch. Now, where do you want me?" asked Twilight. She grinned broadly, edging in close to the blue pegasus.</p><p>"I want you in my office, by my side. If by some weirdo miracle the humans reach me and actually give me some entertainment, I want somepony who can help me look twenty per cent cooler as I kick some ape butt," said Rainbow Dash. Twilight nodded happily.</p><p>"What about me?" asked Pinkie Pie. She had cider froth all across her upper lip.</p><p>"I want you to go to the secret bunker! If things go south, which they won’t, you go get the other leaders, and finish what I started," said Rainbow Dash. “Obviously that’ll never happen, which is kind of a bummer I won’t get to see any decent action. This war isn’t really going my way at all. But at least I got to be such a flank-kicking strategist! Even if I’m not here, it’s like I still am!”</p><p>Pinkie Pie nodded, then galloped away. As she left, she said, “You’re sure right about that!”</p><p>"Right, men. Let's go," said Daniel. Logan nodded and started the engine. He pulled out into a line of tanks and Humvees, and the long drive from Elbe base to Berlin had begun.</p><p>Hours passed, but the men lost count by the time they finally got a taste of battle. "Turn! Turn! Turn!" shouted Irish as a bomb went off near the Humvee. Logan managed to veer the heavy vehicle in the nick of time, and the Humvee behind them took the blast instead. Irish fired the gun, and in spite of his rambunctious efforts, he took out a few ponies now and again. Most of his shots were warning signals to keep the ponies at bay. Irish turned himself the other way and saw a pony aiming a rocket at his Humvee. Irish shot the pony, but before the bullets struck his target, the pony had managed to fire off a rocket. The rocket slammed into the ground in front of the Humvee, sending dirt and rocks flying into the air with a mighty thoom. The blast flipped the Humvee sideways. “No!” Irish bellowed, long and loud. Tyrone and Daniel smartly yanked Irish back inside the vehicle as it spun, while Shaun frowned deeply, his body slinging loosely about the interior.</p><p>The squad yelled out in fear. The front of the Humvee slammed into the ground, and the entire vehicle rolled onto its top side. It laid there for a long moment amidst the smouldering craters, itself smoking with one wheel still spinning and another wrenched at an asymmetrical angle. Logan hung suspended in his seatbelt. Tom’s had snapped, and his body was crumpled into a sitting position against his seat. In the passenger compartment, the men lay tangled amidst one another. Nobody moved.</p><p>Signs of life began to stir as the men forced themselves to groan and shift. At first, they didn’t want to right themselves. They just wanted to prove to each other that they were still alive after their crash. Logan undid his seatbelt with one hand, trying to ease himself to the roof of the vehicle with his other. He slumped against his door, which came open easily because it could no longer shut properly. His nose gushed like blood and poured around his lips like make-up. His head ached, making him fear he was concussed, and he was certain that the others were in similar states of injury. “C’mon, lads,” he said. “Pull yerselves together. The war’s not over yet.” At their own behest, they hastily tried to patch one another up, knowing that the ravenous hordes would set upon them if they lingered. Either that or they would fall behind, or perhaps become the target of another rocket—just being downed didn’t necessarily mean they wouldn’t still be amusing to explode.</p><p>Logan could see they weren’t in tip-top shape yet. Even he still felt woozy. He was only now reminded how his forehead had been cut on the steering wheel by the stinging sensation it caused, and he winced as his fingers dabbed at the wound. Blood dripped into his eyes. The others seemed to be in worse shape. Irish was swallowing his own bile. Somebody had left a boot print on Shaun’s forehead. Tyrone must have bit his lower lip, because it was horribly swollen and trickling rivulets of crimson.</p><p>Knowing it was up to him to protect his friends while they got their bearing, Logan crawled out of the Humvee with his Thompson dragging behind him. He had a bandage around his broken nose, but he still needed one for his head. He grabbed for his Thompson frantically, pulling it to his shoulder. Ponies of every colour were circling around the Humvee. Logan leant against the open Humvee door and aimed down his sights at the diverse, colourful menaces. He shook his head. His vision was blurring. He reminded himself that wasn’t important right now, and he fired at the ponies, hitting two out of five. He cursed his inaccuracy, but he just couldn’t manage to concentrate on keeping his gun straight.</p><p>The other ponies now trained their weapons on him. “Well, bollocks,” Logan said, awaiting his own demise. It was the sound of the next three shots that made him flinch. Funny, he thought. Guns always sound louder when it’s someone else firing them. He wasn’t sure why, but it was such a happy thought. He opened his eyes to see why, and found the remaining ponies had fallen to the floor, dead. Logan looked high and above for his guardian angel, but all he saw was dark grey and beige smoke tumbling towards the overcast sky. He then looked around himself, and saw Tom laying halfway out the doorway, holding up his Colt .45 with a smoking barrel. Logan reached his hand down to pull Tom out of the car. There was no time to thank him when they both heard banging on the back of the Humvee.</p><p>"Get us out of here, you assholes!" Irish yelled from inside the upturned vehicle. Logan and Tom ripped the back door off, and Tyrone tumbled out, head over heels. He was followed by Shaun, then Daniel, and finally Irish, each of them crawling out and gasping for breath.</p><p>Irish danced to his feet and lifted his MG42 to his shoulder. "Now I'm pissed."</p><p>"What do we do now, Daniel?" asked Tyrone.</p><p>Daniel got up and willed his dizziness away. A kind of rage had overtaken him now at being held back from the assault. His vision honed in on a trench filled with up to twenty-five ponies. He pointed at it. "We are going to take that trench.”</p><p>"What? Are you crazy? It's filled with ponies," said Shaun, whose face still had a boot print on it.</p><p>Daniel didn’t reprimand the questioning of his decision. “We can take them. Our men will have a secure location to reload and get ready for the next rush."</p><p>Irish was even more ecstatic than Daniel. "Come on, guys! We can take them out like the trash!"</p><p>“I ain’t gonna lie. I could really go for some Church’s Chicken right about now. But Daniel’s right. We can whup their sorry donkey asses.” Tyrone wiped his lip and nodded.</p><p>"I'll give it everything I’ve got, Daniel." Tom reloaded his pistol.</p><p>"How about you, Logan? Are you ok?" asked Daniel.</p><p>"Yeah, my vision is getting clearer." Logan rubbed his eyes and smiled blearily at Daniel.<br/>“You know I’m with you one-hundred per cent.”</p><p>"Okay, then. Let's do this" said Daniel in a quiet, simple tone of voice.</p><p>"Yeah! I'm going to get me some kills!" Irish charged in, firing wildly at the ponies. He managed to hit four of them before the squad joined him in his charge. In their mad, screaming rush for the trench, they collectively slaughtered seventeen of the twenty-five. By the time they reached the trench, how many ponies remained? They felt invincible. They felt as if their wounds had been healed. Daniel witnessed in person the very real effects of morale: The other ponies seemed horrified that their numbers had been eradicated so swiftly. Once the trench had been cleared of the enemy, the squad took the time to reload.</p><p>"So, what now?" Tyrone shouted over the gunfire.</p><p>“You know the answer to that,” said Logan. “We keep goin’.” And so the series of their assaults began. Trenches littered the earthen landscape. Bullets flew like sideways rain, with explosions thundering all around them. It all felt so natural to them by now. They cleared out the next trench, almost overstepping some ponies that had pressed against the back wall. They whirled around, brandishing their machetes or else whipping their heavy guns about, bludgeoning the Equestrians in their snouted faces. The butt of a gun splattered an eye. A blade shunted clear through the top of a muzzle. Combat boots stomped on throats. Again, the squad paused only long enough to reload and strategize their next manoeuvre.</p><p>“You boys ever play football?” Tyrone asked. “I’m thinkin’ statue of liberty play right here.”</p><p>The others nodded (except for Shaun, who shook his head). Logan asked, “Do you mean rugby or soccer?” Tyrone’s point came across anyway. Daniel had the others draw up ideas for how to approach the next trench, and they each contributed their favourite plays (except for Shaun). They even let Irish have a turn, even though they sneered at his favourite rugby team. Soon they were chatting about their fucking sport as if they were gathered around a water cooler rather than caked in mud and blood and rife with the stench of burst trachea and pony entrails.</p><p>“Did you see that ludicrous display last night?” asked Logan.</p><p>Tyrone interrupted the conversation, bringing them all back to matters at hand. “If Nick was here,” he said, “he’d probably give us some Canadian rules.”</p><p>“He is here,” said Daniel. “He’s here in spirit, wishing for our success.” He knew nothing of the sort for certain, but it was just the kind of sentiment he’d come to expect from Nick. For what it was worth, he was spot on. Tyrone nodded in agreement.</p><p>Daniel dared to peer over the edge of the trench. There was only one more trench before the Reichstag building. The ornate and historical structure looked immaculate, which was something of a discrepancy considering the violent activity surrounding it and the severe damage to its lawn. Its verdant greenery had been uprooted or used as cover for pony trenches. The building itself looked as resplendent as its pictures, although Daniel could not tell what damage it suffered from this distance. It was a wide building with old world architecture. Tall columns rose against its walls above a brick-patterned foundation. Two symmetrical halls bore identical windows and led into two mirroring towers with statues standing all along the parapets. Over the centre of the building, the squad could see a magnificent glass dome with horizontal framing, which they each thought looked particularly modern in contrast to the stone grey structure. If any of them gave a particular crap about history, they might’ve felt more significant guilt about having to stage their ultimate battle here.</p><p>Daniel said, "Okay, men. One more trench, then we work out what to do." The men acknowledged him before they charged towards the last trench. The ponies fought valorously, but the squad made sure to scavenge what they could, and still carried plenty of fight with them. Once again, they paused to reload, and the gravity of the situation finally weighed in on them.</p><p>"What now?" Logan asked.</p><p>"We need a radio to call in an air strike. There was one in the Humvee, but it got destroyed. Dammit." Daniel jerked his head forward in annoyance. Just then, a soldier jumped into the trench. On his back he carried a transportable radio. He panted heavily, smiling at Daniel. There was a zip as a stray bullet went straight through his head. His face girned like a freak in a circus act, and blood fountained in a spiralling display out the opposite side of his skull as the bullet bored through him. His head bobbed sideways, his feet stumbled, and then he collapsed on the spot.</p><p>"Our lucky day," said Tyrone, picking up the radio pack and handing it to Daniel.</p><p>"Yeah. Wasn't his, though," joked Irish.</p><p>Daniel encored this remark and contacted the strike team. "Hello. This is Daniel Williams. I need that strike team now!" he ordered.</p><p>"Er, roger that. Strike team is a-go," replied the strike team leader over the radio. The airstrike flew overhead only a few seconds later, dropping bombs on the remaining ponies in the yard. The ponies were herded to the left exactly as Daniel’s strategy had predicted.</p><p>"Hey, they’re fleeing," stated Shaun with a smile, who had suffered a bump on the noggin back in the Humvee. His eyes crossed and he waggled a finger.</p><p>Daniel looked over at Shaun and a pang of guilt lumped into his throat. He looked at Logan, who was waving his fingers in front of his own face. Tyrone was dapping at his lip which had started bleeding again. Tom was rubbing the back of his neck which he now noticed was horribly bruised in purple and bronze. They were clearly wearing out. These weren’t just injuries you could walk off. They didn’t have sprained ankles from playing football in gym class. They’d all been in a terrible car crash and were run ragged on the fumes of their own adrenaline. There was no telling how much further he could push his friends. How long could he continue to drive them onward until they dropped? Would he whip them like a sleigh driver until he was dead or attained victory?</p><p>"Don't worry,” Daniel said. “They’re like lambs to the slaughter." He wiped his face and saw blood on the back of his hand. He couldn’t figure out where it had come from. Ignoring it, he let his friends in on his next strategy.</p><p>"Right. Irish, Tyrone: You guys are going to hide out here and give us cover fire. Keep an eye on those accessibility ramps. When we get to the stairs, Shaun, you turn around and give Irish and Tyrone cover fire, and Logan, you give Shaun cover fire. Then you guys hold that position at the front entrance. Tom and I will go inside to seek and take out Rainbow Dash. If we don't come out within ten minutes, it means we are dead, so come in and finish her off."</p><p>He didn’t wait for their acknowledgement this time. “Okay, go!” The men ran to the stairs whilst Irish and Tyrone covered them, killing the few remaining ponies that emerged across the ruptured fields from either side. When they reached the stairs of the Reichstag, Logan and Shaun turned about face to give Tyrone and Irish cover fire on their approach, whilst Tom and Daniel barged into the building.</p><p>Tom equipped his sniper and shot one of the pony guards. The pony spun around and around on one back hoof before collapsing, his eyes crossing to stare at the massive bullet hole in his own forehead. Daniel led Tom up some stairs where there were two more ponies. Daniel fired his PPSH and killed them both. It was amazing how he could just carry this heavy gun and fire it with such swift precision.</p><p>Meanwhile, upstairs, Twilight Sparkle and Rainbow Dash heard the gunfire from inside the building. "Here comes the cavalry." Rainbow Dash smiled excitedly as her wings popped open. Twilight leapt above the door and stuck her bladed cane into the wall. She held onto it with all her legs, keeping her tail tucked against herself to remain out of sight, just before Tom and Daniel broke the door down, brandishing their weapons at Rainbow Dash. It was the fourth door they had checked before they found Rainbow Dash’s office.</p><p>"Freeze, bitch!" instructed Daniel.</p><p>Rainbow Dash laughed, rolling back onto her throne and kicking her hind legs. "Ya got me, eh!"</p><p>Twilight Sparkle pulled her staff out of the wall and landed in front of Tom and Daniel with a loud couple of clops. With one swift movement, she sliced the barrels off of their weapons. She then slammed her staff forwards. Tom and Daniel rolled out the way and stood up behind her, flexing their muscles after tossing their heavy guns aside. Twilight's staff was now stuck in the wall, so Tom and Daniel whipped out their pistols.</p><p>"This is for James," Daniel said. He and Tom fired. At the same moment their fingers itched the triggers, Twilight pulled her staff out of the wall. As the cacophonous blast sang out from their pistols as if they held trumpets, she swept her blade around and knocked the bullets away by spinning it out in front of her. Her first kick with a front leg knocked both their weapons out of their hands. She maintained the same momentum with both of her hind legs and kicked them back in their chests. Tom and Daniel slid across the polished marble floor of Rainbow Dash's office. They rose to their feet, and looked at each other, exchanging silent thoughts of dread.</p><p>"Now how in the hell did she do that?" asked Tom as both he and Daniel pulled their machetes off their backs.</p><p>"I don't know," said Daniel.</p><p>"Well, there is only one way to find out," replied Tom. Then Tom and Daniel readied their blades. Twilight looked at them. They stared at each other for a couple of seconds. Then, without any sort of crazed war cries at all, Tom and Daniel charged at Twilight. Tom swung his blade downwards. Twilight blocked. Then Daniel swung his down. Twilight blocked again and performed a round house kick. Her hoof slammed into Tom's face and the force made him flip and land on his back. Then Twilight ducked and spun with her leg out. She tripped Daniel and rose to her feet. Then she stabbed her staff down at Tom's head. Tom rolled out the way and the staff stuck in the floor. Tom readied his blade. Twilight smiled. Then she pulled the blade out of the ground and spun towards Tom. Tom swung his blade side to side, blocking Twilight's attempts to cut him whilst she spun. Then Twilight's blade sliced open Tom's forearm. Tom dropped his blade. Twilight kicked him. Tom flew through the air and crashed into a pillar holding up the ceiling. The force nearly broke his back.</p><p>Daniel rose to his feet. Twilight turned to face him. "Your head will make a good trophy, just like your brother's." She laughed a cruel, smart-alecky laugh.</p><p>"Never!" shouted Daniel, lunging forward. “My head would make a rotten trophy!” He swung his blade down. Twilight made an attempt to block, but Daniel cut clean through the middle of the staff and sliced open Twilight’s left shoulder. Twilight skirted backwards and rose to her back hooves. Her staff had now separated into two blades, but she couldn't use them both. Her shoulder was cut too deep, and unicorn blood was smearing down her arm. She threw the left side of the staff to the floor with a loud clatter.</p><p>"This is startin’ to be interesting, eh!" Rainbow Dash was watching the fight with her front hooves on her back knees.</p><p>Twilight smiled at the confidence she heard in Rainbow’s voice. "You are a worthy opponent. It will be a shame when I have to kill you,” she told Daniel.</p><p>"Bring it on," replied Daniel, making a beckoning gesture with one hand and getting ready for another attack. Twilight ran towards him and performed a front flip over him, twisting her body hooves over heels as if she were in a kung-fu flick. She landed on her hind legs behind him. She then swung her blade round and sliced open Daniel's back. Daniel dropped his blade and fell to the floor, emitting a choked “Gack!” Twilight kicked him hard in the side of his ribs, pushing him over onto his back.</p><p>"It ends here," she said as she lifted her sword above her head. “If this were a book in my library, I’d say you’d have one more page to go. Then there’s a big, fancy epilogue where Equestria celebrates its freedom.” As she went to swing her weapon down, Tom jumped on her back, straddling her like a cowboy. He wrapped his right arm around her neck and fumbled down by her hip with his other arm. He seized a hold of her Unishot pistol. Twilight pulled Tom off of her back like he was an ugly shirt and slammed him down next to Daniel, but he’d already slipped the weapon from her holster. Even still, she kicked the weapon away, crunching several fingers in his hand with her blunt hoof. Tom wailed in pain, clutching this hand with the other. Twilight smiled.</p><p>"I am so going to enjoy this," she said.</p><p>The doorway exploded with activity. Someone screamed, “Freeze, bitch!”</p><p>“That’s what I said.” Daniel nodded as he and Tom turned their attention on the entire squad, who were aiming their guns at Twilight. Twilight walked towards them, an angry glare set upon her face. The squad opened fire, but as usual, she managed to block every bullet with her whirling blade. Even with one half of her weapon gone, she still defended herself against the swarm of high-velocity projectiles. Daniel took this opportunity to crawl for the Unishot. He grabbed it and aimed it at Twilight.</p><p>"Block this, bitch!" cursed Daniel as he pulled the trigger. The horn struck Twilight in her flank. She dropped her weapon with a loud clatter just as the thundering rain of bullets ceased. The squad resumed fire in an instant and tore her body apart with their guns. Twilight Sparkle fell to the floor, blood gushing from her torso and mutilated face like a garden hose that someone poked holes into with a fork.</p><p>Rainbow Dash finally showed fear. Daniel climbed to his feet and helped Tom up. The squad reloaded and aimed their weapons at the pegasus now.</p><p>"It's over," explained Daniel.</p><p>"No, it can't be! You can't defeat me!" Rainbow Dash shouted as she opened her wings. The squad fired and bullets ripped her wings apart. Feathers started drifting about the room like cigarette smoke, as if a down pillow had exploded in the microwave. Rainbow Dash screamed like a fire alarm and her legs buckled. The excruciating pain to her precious wings was unbearable. Daniel approached her.</p><p>"This is for James," he said as he punched her square in the jaw. The force of his manly punch knocked her square out. The squad smiled at Daniel. None of them watched as Twilight’s riddled body scooted an inch or two closer to touch hooves with Rainbow.</p><p>"Tie her up, and let's get the hell out of here," Daniel ordered his men. Irish and Tyrone took care of binding her with cord, and they carried her out of the building like a pig roast to a luau. The squad exited the building to a horde of soldiers. There was still the sound of gunfire in the distance, but the swarm of people around them assured them that the remainder of the offensive would only be a matter of picking off the ponies’ numbers now.</p><p>The wind continued to ring in Daniel’s ears. Manly tears streamed down his cheeks as he stood on the spot where James had died. The rush of battle still blew through his brain and his lungs, but the noise that ensued was of a different sort. Everyone was cheering as Tyrone lifted the unconscious body of Rainbow Dash above his head. It was over. They had won. Vengeance had been theirs.</p><p>To be continued.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This carousel - takes us round and round!<br/>This crazy maze of life,<br/>You can't tell up from down...<br/>Having so much fun...<br/>We forgot to ask where this magic's taking us, But hey, here we come - Shoji Meguro</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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